IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


A, 


V. 


^ 


A 


■61 


1.0 

■tt   In     112.2 

I.I 

^    ML 

Li 
tut 

18 

1.25 

1.6 

?,- 


V 


<^ 


/? 


■^  %.  "^^  ^'^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREFT 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


i/.A 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliogrnphically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  methcd  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


□    Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  cuuleur 


□    Covers  damaged/ 
C< 


D 


D 


n 


«ouverture  endommagie 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  pelliculie 


n    Cover  title  missing/ 
Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

I      I    Coloured  maps/ 

I J    Cartes  giographiques  en  couleur 

□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
I I    Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


E1    Bound  with  other  material/ 
J    ReM^  avec  d'autres  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distrrtion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  srrree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  itait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  ixi  film^es. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  iti  possible  de  se  procurer.  Las  details 
d«  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-^tre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


[~*n    Coloured  pages/ 


D 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdos 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pelliculies 


I    ~7    Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 


Pages  ddcolor^es,  tacheties  ou  piqustes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachees 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  in^gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  s\ipplementaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


r~7\  Pages  detached/ 

Fyl  Showthrough/ 

r~n  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

r~n  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

|~n  Only  edition  available/ 


1 

8 
1 
V 


e 

b 

ri 
n 
n 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  cbscured  by  errata 
slip?,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  refiimed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieilement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc..  cnt  it6  filmies  d  nouveau  de  facon  i 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Additional  comments:/ 
ommentaires  supplimentaires; 


Pagination  as  follows  :   [11]- [272]  p. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-'^:;ssou8. 


lOX 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  hare  has  baan  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  off: 

Douglas  Library 
Quaan's  University 


L'axamplaira  ffiimA  ffut  raproduit  grAca  A  la 
gAnArositA  da: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 


The  images  appearing  hare  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
off  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  Impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
fU^i  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  en  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  images  suivantas  ont  At*  .'aproduites  aver  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nattetA  de  I'exemplaire  filmA.  et  en 
confformitA  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  de 
ffHmaga. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimAe  sont  ffilmAs  en  commenpant 
par  la  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  salt  par  la 
darnlAre  pag»  qui  comporte  une  empreinie 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  autras  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  ffilmAs  an  commenpant  par  la 
pramiAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  tells 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
darnlAre  image  de  chaqua  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  —^  signiffie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signiffie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  atr.,  may  be  ffilmed  at 
diffferent  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  lefft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  fframas  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartas,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
ffilmAs  A  des  taux  da  rAduction  difffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  il  est  filmA  A  partir 
da  I'angia  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  an  bas,  an  prenant  la  nombre 
d'imagas  nAcessaira.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrant  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

THE 


/n>-t^ 


SAYINGS  AND  DOINGS 


OF 


SAMUEL   SLICK,  ESQ., 


TOGETHER    WITH    HIS    OPINION    ON 


M^THIMON^Y. 


BY  JUDGE  HALIBURTON, 

AUTHOR  OF    "SAM   SLICK    IN   SEARCH   OF   A  WIFE,"    "  SAM    SLICK    IW 
ENGLAND,"    "NATURE   AND   HUMAN   NATURE,"   ETC. 


\ 


NEW    YORK: 
DICK   &    FITZGERALD,    PUBLISHERS, 

NO.    18   ANN    STREET. 


''■'J'l'iliilJjIWWWIIW— W— t— 


Lf 


'^'^d  H-l^'-finC^'i-i^       If  Si-. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAOE 

1    The  Duke  of  Kent's  Lodge 15 

2.  Plavinc;  a  Cird 24 

3.  Behind  the  Scenes 37 

4.  The  Black  Brother 49 

5.  The  Great  Unknown 68 

6.  Snubbing  a  Snob 72 

7.  Patriotism,  or  the  Two  Shears's 83 

8.  Too  Knowing  by  Half 94 

9.  Matrimony i 104 

10.  The  Wooden  Horse 116 

11.  The  Bad  Shilling 129 

12.  Trading  in  Bed 143 

13.  Knowing  the  Soundings,  or  Polly  Coffin's  Sandhole 158 

14.  An  Old  Friend  with  a  New  Face 170 

15.  The  Unburied  One 180 

16.  Definition  of  a  Gentleman 190 

17.  Looking  Up 202 

IS.  The  Old  Minister 213 

19.  The  Barrel  without  Hoops 225 

20.  Facing  a  Woman 238 

21.  The  Attache 252 


A.t^>-iJ'*J'0-jii.. 


SAM  SLICK'S  SAYINGS  AND  DOINGS. 


CHAPTER   I. 


THE   DUKE   OF    KENT'S   LODGE. 


The  communication  by  steam  between  Nova  Scotia  and 
England  will  form  a  new  era  in  colonial  history.  It  will 
draw  closer  the  bonds  of  affection  between  tlie  two  coun- 
tries, afford  a  new  and  extended  field  for  English  capital, 
and  develop  the  resources  of  that  valuable  but  neglected 
province.  Mr.  Slick,  with  his  usual  vanity,  claims  the 
honor  of  suggesting  it,  as  well  as  the  merit  of  having,  by 
argument  and  ridicule,  reasoned  and  shamed  the  govern- 
ment into  its  adoption.  His  remarks  upon  the  cruelty  of 
employing  the  unsafe  and  unfortunate  gun-bi'igs  that  con- 
stituted the  line  of  Falmouth  packets,  until  they  severally 
foundered  and  disappeared  with  their  gallant  crews,  are 
too  personal  and  too  severe  to  be  recorded  in  this  place, 
and  the  credit  he  claims  for  having  attracted  the  attention, 
and  directed  the  indignation  of  the  public  to  this  disgrace- 
ful sacrifice  of  human  life,  is  so  extravagant,  that  one  would 
suppose  this  obvious  and  palpable  error  had  escaped  the 
observation  of  all  the  world  but  himself,  and  was  altogether 
a  new  discovery.     But,  whatever  praise  he  may  deserve 


16 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


for  liis  calculations  and  suggestions,  or  whatever  blame  is 
to  be  attached  to  the  admiralty  for  their  obstinate  adhe- 
rence to  the  Uiemorable  ••coffin-ships,"!  prefer  looking 
forward,  to  dwelling  on  a  painful  retrospect,  and  indul- 
ging in  j)leasing  anticipations  of  the  future,  to  commenting 
on  the  errors  of  the  past. 

This  route,  by  its  connection  with  that  of  New  York, 
will  afford  an  agreeable  tour,  commencing  at  Halifax,  pas- 
sing through  the  colonies,  and  terminating  at  the  Hudson. 
It  will  offer  a  delightful  substitute  for  that  of  the  Rhine, 
and  the  beaten  tracks  on  the  continent.  As  sooa  as  it  was 
announced  that  government  had  decided  upon  adopting  Mr. 
Slick's  designs,  I  wrote  to  him  informing  hiijj  of  the  fact, 
and  of  my  intention  to  proceed  to  St.  John,  the  state  of 
Maine,  New  England,  and  New  York,  and  requested  him  to 
meet  me  as  soon  as  possible,  and  accompany  me  on  this 
journey,  as  I  proposed  taking  passage  at  the  latter  place 
in  a  steamer  for  Great  Britain.  I  left  Halifax  on  the  10th 
of  May  last,  and  embarked  on  board  of  the  Great  Western 
in  July.  It  was  the  third,  and  will  probably  be  the  last 
tour  on  this  continent  performed  in  company  with  this  ec- 
centric individual.  During  the  journey  there  were  few  in- 
cidents of  sufficient  novelty  to  interest  the  reader,  but  his 
conversation  partook  of  the  same  originality,  the  same 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  the  same  humor  as  for- 
merly;  and  whenever  he  developed  any  new  traits  of 
character  or  peculiarity  of  feeling,  not  exhibited  in  our 
previous  travels,  I  carefully  noted  them  as  before,  and 
have  now  the  pleasure  of  giving  them  to  the  public.  As  a 
whole,  they  form  a  very  tolerable  portrait  of  an  erratic 
Yankee  trader,  which,  whatever  may  be  the  merit  of  the 


THE   DUKE   OF   KENT'ri    LOD(JE. 


17 


execution,  has,  at  least,  the  advantage,  and  deserves  tho 
praise,  of  fidelity. 

The  morning  I  left  Ilalifiix  was  one  of  those  brilliant 
ones  tlu.t  in  this  climate  distinguish  this  season  of  the  year; 
and  as  I  ascended  the  citadel-hill,  and  paused  to  look  for 
the  last  time  u})on  the  noble  and  secure  harbor,  the  sloping 
fields,  and  wooded  hills  of  Dartmouth,  and  the  tranquil 
waters  and  graceful  course  of  the  Northwest  Arm,  which, 
embosomed  in  wood,  insinuates  itself  around  the  peninsula, 
and  embraces  the  town,  I  thought  with  pleasure  that  the 
time  had  now  arrived  when  this  exquisite  scenery  would 
not  only  be  accessible  to  European  travellers,  but  form  one 
of  the  termiiii  of  the  great  American  tour.  Hitherto  it  has 
been  known  only  to  the  oflicers  of  the  army  and  navy,  the 
former  of  whom  are  but  too  apt  to  have  their  first  pleasura- 
ble impressions  effaced  by  a  sense  of  exile,  which  a  long 
unvaried  round  of  garrison  duty  in  a  distant  land  so  natu- 
rally induces ;  and  the  latter  to  regard  good  shelter  and 
safe  anchorage  as  the  greatest  natural  beauties  of  a  harbor. 

After  leaving  Halifax,  the  road  to  Windsor  winds  for  ten 
miles  round  the  margin  of  Bedford  basin,  which  is  con- 
nected vath  the  harbor  by  a  narrow  passage  at  the  dock- 
yard. It  is  an  extensive  and  magnificent  sheet  of  water, 
the  shores  of  Avhich  are  deeply  indented  with  numerous 
coves,  and  well-sheltered  inlets  of  great  beauty. 

At  a  distance  of  seven  miles  from  the  town  is  a  ruined 
lodge,  built  by  his  royal  highness  the  late  duke  of  Kent, 
when  commander-in-chief  of  the  forces  in  this  colony,  once 
his  favorite  summer  residence,  and  the  scene  of  his  munifi- 
cent hospitalities.     It  is  impossible  to  visit  this  spot  without 

the  most  melancholy  feelings.     Tho  tottering  fence,  the 

1* 


18 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


prostrato  gates,  the  ruiiuHl  p^rottocs,  tlie  long  and  winding 
avenues,  cut  nut  of  the  forest,  overgrown  by  rank  grass 
and  occasional  shrub^i,  and  the  silence  and  desolation  that 
pervaded  everything  around,  all  bespeak  a  rapid  and 
premature  decay,  recall  to  mind  the  untimely  fate  of  its 
noble  and  lamented  owner,  and  tell  of  fleeting  pleasures, 
and  the  transitory  nature  of  all  earthly  things.  I  stopped 
at  a  small  inn  in  the  neighborhood  for  the  purpose  of  strol- 
ling over  it  for  the  last  time  ere  I  left  the  country,  and  for 
the  indulgence  of  those  moralizing  musings  which  at  times 
harmonize  with  our  nerves,  and  awaken  what  may  be 
called  tlie  pleasurable  sensations  of  melancholy. 

A  modern  wooden  ruin  is  of  itself  the  least  interesting, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  depressing  object  imagina- 
ble. The  massive  structures  of  antiquity  that  are  every- 
where to  be  met  with  in  Europe,  exhibit  the  remains  of 
great  strength,  and,  though  injured  and  defaced  by  the 
slow  and  almost  imperceptible  agency  of  time,  promise  to 
continue  thus  mutilated  for  ages  to  come.  They  awaken 
the  images  of  de})artcd  generations,  and  are  sanctified  by 
legend  and  by  tale.  But  a  Avooden  ruin  shows  rank  and 
rapid  decay,  concentrates  its  interest  on  one  family,  or  one 
man,  and  resembles  a  mangled  corpse,  rather  than  the  mon- 
ument that  covers  it.  It  has  no  historical  importance,  no 
ancestral  record.  It  awakens  not  the  imagination.  The 
poet  finds  no  inspiration  in  it,  and  the  antiquary  no  inte- 
rest. It  speaks  only  of  death  and  decay,  of  recent  calam- 
ity, and  vegetable  decomposition.  The  very  air  about  it 
is  close,  dank,  and  unwholesome.  It  has  no  grace,  no 
strength,  no  beauty,  but  looks  deformed,  gross,  and  repul- 
sive.    Even  the  faded  color  of  a  painted  wooden  house,  the 


THE  DUKE  OF  KENT'S  LODGE. 


19 


tnniislied  gilding  of  its  decorations,  the  corroded  iron  of  its 
fassteiiingH.  and  its  cnnnbling  materials,  all  indicate  recent 
UKe  and  temporary  habitation.  It  is  but  a  short  time  since 
this  mansion  was  tenanted  by  its  royal  master,  and  in  that 
brief  space  how  great  has  been  the  devastation  of  the  ele- 
ments !  A  few  years  more,  and  all  trace  of  it  will  have 
disappeared  for  ever.  Its  very  site  will  soon  become  a 
matter  of  doubt.  The  forest  is  fast  reclaiming  its  own, 
and  the  lawns  and  ornamented  gardens,  annually  sown  with 
seeds  scattered  by  the  winds  from  the  surrounding  woods, 
are  relapsing  into  a  state  of  nature,  and  exhibiting  in  de- 
tached patches  a  young  growth  of  such  trees  as  are  com- 
mon to  the  country. 

As  I  approached  the  house  I  noticed  that  the  windows 
were  broken  out,  or  shut  up  with  rough  boards  to  exclude 
the  rain  and  snow  ;  the  doors  supported  by  wooc'en  props 
instead  of  hinges,  which  hung  loosely  on  the  panels ;  and 
that  long  luxuriant  clover  grew  in  the  eaves,  which  had 
been  originally  designed  to  conduct  the  water  from  the 
roof,  but  becoming  choked  with  dust  and  decayed  leaves, 
had  afforded  sufficient  food  for  the  nourishment  of  coarse 
grasses.  The  portico,  like  the  house,  had  been  formed  of 
wood,  and  the  flat  surface  of  its  top,  imbibing  and  retaining 
moisture,  presented  a  mass  of  vegetable  matter  from  which 
had  sprung  up  a  young  and  vigorous  birch-tree,  whose 
strength  and  freshness  seemed  to  mock  the  helpless  weak- 
ness that  nourished  it.*  I  had  no  desire  to  enter  the 
apartments ;  and,  indeed,  the  aged  ranger,  whose  occupa- 
tion was  to  watch  over  its  decay,  and  to  prevent  its  prema- 

*  This  was  the  case  when  I  was  there  in  1828 ;  since  then,  porch  and 
trf-e  have  both  disappeared. 


20 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DQiNGS. 


tnre  destruction  by  the  plunder  of  its  fixtures  and  more 
durable  material ',  informed  me  that  the  floors  wei'e  unsafe. 
Altogether,  the  scene  was  one  of  a  most  depressing  kind. 

A  small  brook,  which  had  by  a  skilful  hand  been  led 
over  several  precipitous  descents,  performed  iis  feats  alone 
and  unobserved,  and  seemed  to  murmur  out  its  complaints, 
as  it  hurried  over  its  rocky  channel  to  mingle  with  the  sea; 
while  the  wind,  sighing  through  the  umbrageous  wood,  ap- 
peared to  assume  a  louder  and  move  melancholy  wail,  as  it 
swept  through  the  long  vacant  passages  and  deserted  sa- 
loons, and  f^scaped  in  plaintive  tones  from  the  bvoken  case- 
ments. The  ofiices,  as  well  as  the  ornamental  buildings, 
had  shared  the  same  fate  as  the  house.  Tlie  roofs  of  all  had 
fallen  in,  and  mouldered  into  dust ;  the  doors,  sasiies,  and 
floors,  had  diKappearcd  ;  and  the  walls  only,  which  were  in 
part  built  of  stone,  remained  to  attest  their  existence  and 
use.  The  grounds  exhibited  similar  effects  of  neglect,  in  a 
climate  where  the  living  wood  grows  so  rapidly,  and  the 
dead  decays  so  soon,  as  in  Nova  Scotia.  An  arbor,  which 
had  been  constructed  of  lattice-work,  for  the  support  of  r>, 
fi&v/ering  vine,  had  fallen,  and  was  covered  with  vegeta- 
tion ;  while  its  roof  alone  remained,  supported  aloft  by 
limbs  of  trees  that,  growing  up  near  it,  1  id  become  entan- 
gled in  its  net-work.  A  Cliincse  temple,  once  a  favorite 
retreat  of  its  owner,  as  if  in  conscious  pride  of  its  prefer- 
ence, had  offered  a  more  successful  resistance  to  the 
weather,  and  aj)peared  in  tolerable  preservation ;  while 
one  small  surviving  bell,  of  the  numerous  ones  that  once 
ornamented  it,  gave  out  Its  solitary  and  melancholy  tink- 
ling as  it  waved  in  the  wind.  How  sad  was  its  mimic 
knell  u\i'X  pleasures  that  were  fled  for  ever ! 


I 


THE  DUK2  OF  KENT'S  LODGE, 


21 


Tlie  contemplation  of  this  deserted  lionse  is  not  without 
its  beneficial  effect  on  the  mind ;  for  it  incnlc.ites  humility 
to  the  ricli,  and  resignation  to  the  poor.  However  elevated 
man  may  be,  there  is  much  in  his  cond'^ion  that  reminds 
him  of  the  infirmities  of  his  nature,  and  reconciles  him  to 
the  decrees  of  Providence.  "  May  it  please  your  majesty," 
said  Euclid  to  his  royal  pupil,  **  there  is  no  regal  road  to 
science.  You  must  travel  in  the  same  path  with  others,  if 
you  would  attain  the  same  end."  These  forsaken  grounds 
teach  us  in  similar  terras  this  consolatory  truth,  that  there 
iri  no  exclusive  way  to  happiness  reserved  even  for  those 
of  the  most  exalted  rank.  Tiie  smiles  of  fortune  are  ca- 
pricious, and  sunshine  and  shade  are  unequally  distributed ; 
but  though  the  surface  of  life  is  thus  diversified,  the  end  is 
uniform  to  all,  and  invariably  terminates  in  the  grave. 

"  Pallida  niors  tequo  pulsat  pcdc  pauperum  tabernas 
Rcgumque  turres." 

Ruins,  like  death,  of  which  they  are  at  once  the  emblem 
and  the  cidence,  are  apt  to  lo^e  their  effect  from  their  fre- 
quency. The  mind  becomes  accustomed  to  them,  and  the 
moral  is  lost.  The  picturesque  alone  remains  predominant, 
and  criticism  supplies  the  pl-ice  of  reflection.  But  this  if 
the  only  ruin  of  any  extent  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  the  o/ily 
spot  either  associated  wiih  royalty,  or  set  apprt  and  conse- 
crated to  solitude  and  decay.  The  stranger  pauses  at  a 
sight  so  unusual,  and  inquires  the  cause;  he  learns  with 
surprise  that  this  place  was  devoted  exclusively  to  pleas- 
ure ;  that  care  and  sorrow  never  entered  here ;  and  that 
the  voice  of  mirth  and  music  was  alone  heard  within  its 
gates.  It  was  the  temporary  abode  of  a  prince  —  of  one, 
too,  had  he  lived,  that  would  have  inherited  the  first  and 


22 


SAM  SLICK'S  SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


i 


fairest  empire  in  the  world.  All  that  man  can  give,  or 
rank  enjoy,  awaited  him ;  but  an  overruling  and  inscruta- 
ble Providence  decreed,  at  the  very  time  when  his  succes- 
sion seemed  most  certain,  that  the  sceptre  should  pass  into 
the  hands  of  another.  This  intelligence  interests  and  ex- 
cites his  feelings.  He  enters,  and  hears  at  every  step  the 
voice  of  nature  proclaiming  the  doom  that  awaits  alike  the 
prince  and  the  peasant.  The  desolation  he  sees  appals 
him.  The  swallow  nestles  in  the  empty  chamber,  and  the 
sheep  finds  a  noon-day  shelter  in  the  banqueting-room, 
while  the  ill-omened  bat  rejoices  in  the  dampness  of  the 
mouldering  ruins.  Everything  recalls  a  recollection  of  the 
dead ;  every  spot  has  its  record  of  the  past ;  every  path 
its  footstep ;  every  tree  its  legend  ;  and  even  the  universal 
silence  that  reigns  here  has  an  awful  eloquence  that  over- 
powers the  heart.  Death  is  written  everywhere.  Sad  and 
dejected,  he  turns  and  seeks  some  little  relic,  some  small 
memorial  of  his  deceased  prince,  and  a  solitary,  neglected 
garden-flower,  struggling  for  existence  among  the  rank 
grasses,  presents  a  fitting  type  of  the  brief  existence  and 
ti»ansitpry  nature  of  all  around  him.  As  he  gathers  it,  he 
pays  the  silent  but  touching  tribute  of  a  votive  tear  to  the 
memory  of  him  who  has  departed,  and  leaves  the  place 
with  a  mind  softened  and  subdued,  but  improved  and  puri- 
fied, by  what  he  has  seen. 

Tlie  affectionate  remembrance  we  retain  of  its  lamented 
owner  may  have  added  to  my  regret,  and  increased  the 
interest  I  felt  in  this  lonely  and  peculiar  ruin.  In  the  duke 
of  Kent  the  Nova-Scotians  lost  a  kind  patron  and  generous 
friend.  The  loyalty  of  the  people,  which,  when  all  Amer- 
ica was  revolting,  remained  firm  and  unshaken,  and  the  nu- 


THE  DUKE  OF  KENT'S  LODGE. 


23 


merous  proofs  he  received  of  their  attachment  to  their  king 
and  to  himself,  made  an  impression  upon  bis  mind  that  was 
neither  effaced  nor  weakened  by  time  or  distance.     Should 
these  pages  happily  meet  the  eye  of  a  colonial  minister, 
who  has  other  objects  in  view  than  the  security  of  place 
and  the  interest  of  a  party,  may  they  remind  him  of  a 
duty  that  has  never  been  performed  but  by  the  illustrious 
individual,  whose  former  residence  among  us  gave  rise  to 
these  reflections.     This  work  is  designed  for  the  cottage, 
and  not  for  the  palace ;   and  the  author  has  not  the  pre- 
sumption even  to  hope  it  can   ever  be   honored  by  the 
perusal  of  his  sovereign.     Had  he  any  ground  for  antici- 
pating such  a  distinction  for  it,  he   would   avail  himself 
of  this    opportunity  of  mentioning,    that,  in    addition   to 
the  dutiful  affection  the  Nova-Scotians  have  always  borne 
to    their   monarch,  they   feel    a   more   lively    interest   in, 
and    a    more    devoted   attachment    to,   the    present   occu- 
pant of  the  throne,  from  the   circumstances  of  the  long 
and  close  connection  that  subsisted  between  them  and  her 
illuptrions  parent.     He  was  their  patron,  benefactor,  and 
friend.      To  be  a  Nova-Scotian  was  of  itself  a  sufficient 
passport  to  his  notice,  and  to  possess  merit  a  sufficient 
guaranty  for  his  favor.     Her  majesty  reigns,  therefore,  in 
this  little  province  in  the  hearts  of  her  subjects  —  a  do- 
minion of  love  inherited  from  her  father.     Great  as  their 
loss  was  in  being  thus  deprived  of  their  only  protector,  her 
faithful  people  of  Nova  Scotia  still  cling  to  the  hope  that 
Providence  ban  vouchsafed  to  raise  up  one  more  powerful 
and  equally  k.nd  in  her  majesty,  who,  following  this  pa- 
ternal example,  will  be  .graciously  pleased  to   extend  to 
them  a  patronage  that  courtiers  can  not  and  statesmen  will 


24 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


not  give.  While,  therefore,  as  proteges  of  her  royal  house, 
they  claim  the  right  to  honor  and  to  serve  the  sovereign 
of  the  empire  as  "  their  own  qveen,"  they  flatter  themselves 
lier  majesty,  for  a  similar  reason,  will  condescend  to  regard 
them  as  "  tJie  queen's  own." 


CHAPTER    II. 


1   ? 


PLAYINU    A    CARD. 

I  HAD  lingered  so  long  about  these  grounds,  that  the  day 
was  too  far  spertt  to  think  of  reaching  Windsor  before  night, 
and  I  therefore  determined  upon  wiling  away  the  afternoon 
in  examining,  by  the  aid  of  a  diving-bell,  the  hulls  of  sev- 
eral ships  of  a  French  fleet,  which,  at  an  early  period  of 
the  history  of  this  country?  took  shelter  in  Bedford  Basin, 
and  was  sunk  by  the  few  survivors  of  the  crews  to  prevent 
their  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  English.  The  small- 
pox, at  that  time  so  fatal  a  scourge  to  the  human  race,  ap- 
pearing among  them  soon  a.ler  their  arrival,  nearly  depop- 
ulated the  fleet,  destroyed  the  neighboring  village,  and 
swept  off  one  third  of  the  whole  tribe  of  Nova  Scotia  In- 
dians. So  dreadful  a  mortality  has  never  been  witnessed 
on  this  continent ;  and  the  number  of  strangers  thus  sud- 
denly smote  with  death  at  this  place,  exceeded  by  several 
thousands  the  amount  of  the  population  of  the  country  in 
which  they  were  interred.  Of  one  of  the  most  powerful 
armaments  ever  fitted  out  by  France,  a  few  hundreds  of 
persons  only  survived  to  return  to  their  native  land  to  tell 


! 


PLAYING  A    CARD. 


25 


the  sad  tale  of  their  misfortunes.  The  ships  are  still  dis- 
tinctly visible  in  calm  weather ;  and  the  rising  ground  in 
the  neighborhood,  where  the  duke  d'Anville  and  his  mighty 
host  were  buried  is  again  clothed  with  wood,  and  not  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  surrounding  forest,  except  by  the 
inequality  of  the  surface,  caused  by  numerous  trenches  cut 
into  it  to  receive  the  dead.  The  whole  scene  is  one  of  sur- 
passing beauty,  and  deep  and  melancholy  interest.  The 
ruined  lodge,  the  sunken  fleet,  the  fatal  encampment,  and 
the  lonely  and  desolate  cemetery  of  those  unfortunate 
strangers,  form  a  more  striking  and  painful  assemblage  of 
objects  than  is  to  be  found  in  any  other  part  of  British 
America, 

On  my  return  to  the  inn,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet 
Mr.  Slick,  who  was  on  his  way  to  Halifax,  for  the  purpose 
of  arranging  the  details  of  our  journey.  In  the  course  of 
the  evening  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  his  consent,  not  merely 
to  attend  me  .to  New  York,  but  to  accompany  me  to  Eng- 
land. He  was  in  great  spirits  at  the  idea  of  transferring 
the  scene  and  subjects  of  our  conversation  to  the  other 
side  of  the  water,  where,  he  said,  he  could  indulge  in 
greater  freedom  of  remark  than  he  could  here,  having  al- 
ways been  afraid  of  wounding  the  feelings  of  his  own  coun- 
trymen, and  alienating  the  affections  of  his  old  friends,  the 
colonists,  for  whom  he  professed  great  regard. 

On  the  following  morning,  when  the  little  light  travel- 
ling-wagon was  driven  round  from  the  coachyard,  I  was 
delighted  to  see  that  the  clockmaker  had  brought  his  favor- 
ite horse,  "  Old  Clay,"  with  him.  "  Come,  step  in,  squire," 
said  he,  as  he  held  the  reins  —  "  Old  Clay  is  a-pawing  and 
a-chawing  like  mad ;  he  wants  to  show  you  the  way  to 


26 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


<  t! 


Windsor,  and  he  is  jist  the  boy  that  can  do  it.  Hold  up 
your  head,  my  old  ^t-raflfe,"  said  he,  "  and  make  the  folks  a 
bow;  it's  the  last  time  you  will  ever  see  the.n  in  all  your 
born  days ;  and  now  off  with  you  as  if  you  was  in  rael 
wide  awake  airnest,  and  turn  out  your  toes  pretty.  Never 
stop  for  them  idle  critters  that  stand  starin'  in  the  road 
there,  as  if  they  never  seed  a  horse  afore,  but  go  right  over 
them  like  wink,  my  old  snort,  for  you'll  be  to  Conne'ticut 
afore  they  can  wake  up  the  crowner  and  summon  a  jury, 
/  know.  There 's  no  occasion  to  hurry  tho'  at  that  rate,  or 
you'll  set  my  axle  a-fire.  There,  that  will  do  now,  jist 
fourteen  miles  an  hour.  I  don't  calculate  to  drive  faster 
on  a  journey,  squire,  for  it  sweats  him,  and  then  you  have 
to  dry  him  arterwards  afoie  you  water  him,  so  there  is  noth- 
ing gained  by  it.  Ain't  he  a  horrid  handsome  horse,  a 
most  endurin'  quickster,  a  rael  salt,  that's  all?  He  is  the 
prettiest  piece  of  flesh  and  bone  ever  bound  up  in  horse- 
hide.  What  an  eye  he  has !  —  you  might  hang  your  hat 
on  it.  And  then  his  nostrils  ?  Lord,  they  open  like  the 
mouth  of  a  speakin'  trumpet.  He  can  pick  up  miles  on 
Aw  feet,  and  throw  'em  behind  him  faster  than  a  steam  doc- 
tor a-racin'  off  with  another  man's  wife. 

"  There  now,  squire,  ain't  that  magnificent  ?  you  can  hear 
him,  but  can't  see  him ;  he  goes  like  a  bullet  out  of  a  rifle, 
when  its  dander  is  up.  Ain't  he  a  whole  team  that,  and  a 
horse  to  spare?  Absquatilate  it  in  style,  you  old  skunk, 
from  a  squirrel's  jump  to  the  eend  of  the  chapter,  and  show 
the  gentleman  what  you  ran  do.  Anybody  can  see  he 
ain't  a  Blue-nose,  can't  they?  for,  cuss  'em,  they  don't 
know  how  to  begin  to  go.  Trot,  walk,  or  gallop,  is  all  the 
same  to  him,  like  talkin',  drinkin',  or  fighten  to  a  human. 


PLAYING   A   CARD. 


27 


Lord,  I  have  a  great  mind  to  take  him  to  England,  jist  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing,  for  I  don't  know  myself  what  he  can 
do.  When  he  has  done  his  best,  there  is  always  a  mile  an 
hour  more  in  hirfi  to  spare :  there  is,  upon  my  soul.  But 
it  takes  a  man  to  mount  him.  Only  lookin'  at  him  goin' 
makes  your  head  turn  round  like  grindin'  coffee :  —  what 
would  ridin'  him  do?  And  now,  squire,  here  goes  for 
Slickville,  Onion  county,  state  of  Conne'ticut,  ?7nited  States 
of  America.     Here 's  for  home." 

The  very  mention  of  Slickville  awakened  in  my  mind  a 
desire  to  see  its  venerable  and  excellent  pastor,  Mr.  Hope- 
well, so  often  quoted  and  so  affectionately  remembered  by 
Mr.  Slick.  Every  saying  of  his  that  I  had  heard,  and 
every  part  of  his  conduct,  in  private  or  public  life,  recorded 
in  the  previous  volumes,  had  been  marked  by  such  a  be- 
nevolent and  Christian  feeling,  and  by  such  sound  sense 
and  good  judgment,  that  I  was  fully  prepared  to  honor 
and  to  love  him.  Indeed,  one  of  the  best  traits  in  the" 
clockmaker's  character  was  the  great  affection  he  always 
expressed  for  his  old  friend  and  preceptor,  whose  opinions 
and  maxims  he  had  carefully  treasured  as  rules  of  conduct 
that  were  infallible.     With  natural  shrewdness,  Mr.  Slick, 

like  most  men  of  his  class,  was  eminently  gifted ;  but  the 

* 

knowledge  of  men  and  things  which  he  derived  from  his 
learned  and  exemplary  friend  made  him  a  wiser  man,  and 
more  fii  a  philosopher,  than  is  usually  found  in  his  station 
of  life. 

It  made  him  "a  great  card;"  a  saying  of  his  with  which 
I  was  furnished  in  the  following  whimsical  conversation. 
In  the  course  of  our  morning's  drive,  I  happened  to  ask 
him  if  he  interfered  much  in  politics  when  he  was  at  homo 


28 


SAM   BUCK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


Ifl! 


at  Slickvillc.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  not  now.  I  was  once  an 
assembly  man,  but  since  then  I  ginn  up  politics.  There 
is  nothin'  so  well  taken  care  of  as  your  rights  and  privi- 
leges, squire.  There  are  always  plenty  of  chaps  volun- 
teerin'  to  do  that,  out  of  pure  regard  for  you,  ready  to  lay 
down  their  lives  to  fight  your  cause,  or  their  fortins,  if  they 
had  any,  either.  No  ;  I  have  given  that  up.  Clockmakin' 
is  a  better  trade  by  half.  Dear,  dear,  I  shall  never  forget 
the  day  I  was  elected ;  I  felt  two  inches  taller,  and  about 
a  little  the  biggest  man  in  all  Slickville.  I  knew  so  much 
was  expected  of  me  I  couldn't  sleep  a-tryin'  to  make 
speeches ;  and  when  I  was  in  the  shop  I  spiled  half  the 
work  by  not  bavin'  my  mind  on  it.  '  Save  your  country,* 
says  one  ;  '  save  it  from  ruin  ;  cut  down  salaries.'  '  I  intend 
to,'  says  I.  *  Watch  the  officials,'  says  another ;  '  they  're  the 
biggest  rogues  we  have.  It  don't  convene  with  liberty 
that  public  sarvants  should  be  masters  of  the  public'  '  I 
quite  concur  with  you,'  says  I.  '  Reduce  lawyers'  fees,'  says 
some ;  '  they  are  a-eatin'  up  of  the  country  like  locusts.* 
'  Jist  so,'  said  I.  'A  bounty  on  wheat,'  says  the  farmer,  'for 
your  life.'  '  Would  you  tax  the  mechanic  to  enrich  the  agri- 
culturist V  says  the  manufacturer.  '  Make  a  law  agin  this- 
tles,' says  one;  'a  regulator  about  temperance,'  says  another. 
'We've  a  right  to  drink  if  we  please,'  says  a  third.  'Don't 
legislate  too  much,'  says  a  fourth  — '  it's  the  curse  of  the 
state  :'  and  so  on  without  eend.  I  was  fairly  bothered,  for 
no  two  thought  alike,  and  there  was  no  pleasin'  nobody. 
Then  every  man  that  voted  for  mc  wanted  some  favor  or 
another,  and  there  was  no  bottom  to  the  obligation.  I  was 
most  squashed  to  death  Avith  the  weight  of  my  cares,  they 
was  so  heavy. 


PLAYTNG   A   CARD. 


29 


•'  At  last  the  great  day  came,  and  tlie  governor,  and  sen- 
ate, and  representatu-es  all  Avalked  in  procession,  and  the 
artillery  fired,  and  the  band  of  the  caravan  of  wild  beasts 
was  hired  to  play  for  us,  and  we  organized  in  due  form, 
and  the  governor's  message  was  read.  I  must  say  that 
day  was  the  happiest  one  of  my  life.  I  felt  full  of  f^'gnity 
and  honor,  and  was  filled  with  visions  of  glory  to  come. 
'Well,'  says  I  to  myself,  'the  great  game  is  now  to  be' 
played  in  rael  airncst,  and  no  mistake  —  what  card  shall  1 
play.?  The  presidential  chair  and  the  highest  posts  is 
open  to  me  in  common  with  other  citizens.  What  is  to 
prevent  me  a-comin'  in  by  honors,  or,  if  I  have  good  luck, 
by  the  odd  trick.  What  shall  I  lead  off  with  V  I  laid 
awake  all  night  considerin'  of  it,  a-roUin'  and  a-tossin'  over, 
like  cramp  in  the  stomack,  not  knowin'  what  to  do :  at 
last,  I  got  an  idea.  '  Extcnsimi  of  svffVage,''  says  I,  *  is  the 
card  I'll  2^lay.  That  will  take  the  masses,  and  masses  is 
power,  for  majorities  rules.'  At  that  time,  squire,  we  had 
the  forty-shilling  freehold  qualification,  and  it  extended  no 
faither;  so  I  went  for  univarsal  sufiVage ;  'for,'  thinks  I, 
'  if  I  can  carry  that,  I  can  go  for  governof  first,  on  the 
strength  of  the  new  votes,  and  president  arterward  ;*  and 
it  did  seem  plausible  enough,  too,  that 's  a  fact.  To  all  ap- 
pearance, it  was  the  best  card  in  the  j}ack. 

"  So  out  I  jumps  from  bed,  a-walkin'  up  and  down  the 
room  in  my  shirt-tail,  a-workin'  away  at  my  speech  like 
anything,  and  dreadful  hard  work  it  was,  too ;  for  it  is 
easier  to  forge  iron  any  time  than  a  speech,  especially  if 
you  ain't  broughten  up  to  the  business.  I  had  to  go  over 
it,  and  over  it,  ever  so  often,' for  every  now  and  then  I'd 
stick  fa^t,  get  bothered,  and  forget  where  I  was,  and  have 


30 


SAM    SLICK'S    SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


to  begin  agin  ;  but  when  day  was  e'en  about  breakin',  I 
was  just  drnwin'  to  a  close,  and  had  nearly  scored  and 
rough-hew'd  it  out,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  run  agin'  the 
bed-post  in  the  dark,  and  nearly  knocked  my  brains  out. 
Well,  next  night  I  worked  at  it  agin,  only  I  left  the  can- 
dle burnin*,  so  as  not  to  be  a-stumblin'  up  agin  things  that 
way,  and  the  third  night  I  got  it  all  finished  off  complete ; 
but  I  got  a  shockin'  cold  in  my  head,  a-walkin'  about  na- 
ked so,  and  felt  as  weak  as  a  child  for  want  of  sleep.  I 
was  awful  puzzled  to  fix  on  what  to  do  on  account  of  that 
plaguy  cold.  I  didn't  know  whether  to  wait  till  it  got  bet- 
ter, or  strike  while  the  iron  was  hot  and  hissin',  for  I  warn't 
sure  sume  o'  the  speech  wouldn't  leak  out,  or  the  whole 
get  flat,  if  I  kept  it  in  too  long ;  so,  as  soon  as  the  house 
opened,  I  makes  a  plunge  right  into  it ;  for  what  must  be, 
must  be,  and  it's  no  use  a-considerin'. 

*'  So  I  ups  and  says,  '  Mr.  Speaker'  (Lord,  how  thick  my 
tongue  felt  —  it  seemed  to  grow  too  thick  for  my  mouth, 
like  the  clapper  of  an  old  horse),  *  let  me  perpound  this 
resolution,  sir,'  said  I  :  'All  men  are  free  and  equal.'  — 
'  No  one  doubts  it,  Mr.  Slick,'  said  an  old  member ;  '  no 
one  denies  that;  it's  a  truism.'  I  didn't  somehow  expect 
that  interruption ;  it  kinder  put  me  out,  and  I  never  got 
a  goin'  altogether  right  agin  arterward,  for  I  lost  my  tem- 
per ;  and  when  a  man  ain't  cool,  he  might  as  wel^  '  -ng  up 
his  fiddle,  that's  a  fact.  'Have  I  freedom  of  speech,  sir,' 
said  I,  '  or  have  I  not  —  or  is  that  last  rag  of  liberty  torn 
from  the  mast  of  the  constitution  too  1  I  stand  stock 
still  a-waitin'  for  your  answer,  sir.'  —  *0h,  sartain,'  said 
he,  '  sartain ;  you  may  talk  for  ever,  if  you  like :  go  on, 
jir;  only  no  man  doubts  your  proposition.'  —  'It's  a  lie, 


'M 


I'LAYINO    A    CARD. 


81 


sir  eaid  I ;  '  it 's  a  lie  writ.'  — '  Oi  der  !  order  !  —  chair  ! 
chair  !' says  some.  'Knock  him  down!  —  turn  him  out! 
—  where  did  you  I'arn  manners?'  pays  others.  'Hear  me 
out,'  says  I,  'will  you?  and  don't  be  so  everlastin'  fast: 
what 's  the  use  of  jumpin'  afore  you  come  to  the  fence  ? 
It's  a  lie  written  on  the  face  of  the  constitution.'  —  'Oh, 
oh,'  says  they,  'is  that  it?' — 'Yes,'  says  I,  'it  is,  and  con- 
tradict it  if  you  darst.  Wo  are  not  free ;  we  are  slaves : 
one  half  of  us  is  tyrants  —  unremorseless,  onfeelin',  over- 
bearin'  tyrants,  and  vile  usurpers ;  and  the  other  half 
slaves*— abject,  miserablet  degraded  slaves.  The  first  ar- 
gument, I  advance,  sir,  is  this'  —  and  the  cold  in  my  nose 
began  to  tickle,  tickle,  tickle,  till  I  couldn't  hold  in  no 
longer,  and  I  let  go  a  sneeze  that  almost  broke  the  win- 
ders out.  0  Lord,  what  a  haw  !  haw  !  they  sot  up.  '  The 
first  argument  is  this,  sir' — and  off  went  both  barrels  of 
my  nose  agin  like  thunder ;  it  fairly  raised  the  dust  from 
the  floor  in  a  cloud,  like  a  young  whirlwind  in  the  street 
afore  rain.  It  made  all  spin  agin.  '  Why,  he  is  a  very 
ring-tail  roarer,'  says  the  members,  *  a  regular  sneezer ;' 
and  they  shouted  and  roared  like  anything.  I  thought  I 
should  'a'  died  for  shame  one  minit,  and  the  next  I  felt  so 
coonish,  I  had  half  a  mind  to  fly  at  the  speaker  and  knock 
him  down.  I  didn't  jist  cleverly  know  what  to  do,  but  at 
last  I  went  on :  '  Did  the  best  blood  of  the  land  flow  for 
forty  shillings  ?  Was  Bunker  Hill  fought  out  to  loosen 
British  chains,  merely  to  rivet  American  ones  ?  Was  it  for 
this  the  people  died  covered  with  gore  and  glory,  on  the 
bed  of  honor  ?  Was  it  the  forty  shillings  alone  that 
fought  the  revolution  of  the  polls  ?  I  am  for  the  polls. 
Taxation  and  representation  should  go  hand  in  hand,  and 


s 


32 


SAM    SLICK'8   SAYINGS    AND    DOINOS. 


% 


freedom  and  eqim'ity  likewise,  also.  How  dare  you  tax 
the  polls  without  their  consent?  Suppose;  tlu^y  was  to  go 
for  to  tax  you  witliout  your  consent,  why,  who  would  bo 
right  or  who  wrong,  then  ?  Can  two  wrongs  make  a  right  ? 
It  is  much  of  a  muchness,  sir — six  of  one,  and  half  a  doz- 
en of  the  other.' 

"  •  What's  that  feller  talkin'  about  V  says  a  member.  'A 
vote  to  help  the  Poles  agin  Russia,'  says  the  other  :  •  what 
a  cussed  fool  he  is.'  It  put  me  quite  out,  tliat,  and  joggled 
me  80  I  couldn't  make  another  lino  straight.  I  couldn't 
see  the  speaker  no  longer,  for  my  eyes  watered  as  if  I  had 
been  a-stringin'  inions  for  a  week,  and  I  had  to  keep  blow- 
in*  my  nose  the  whole  blessed  time,  for  the  cold  in  it  corked 
it  up  as  tight  as  a  bottle.  '  Who  calls  them  fools  V  says  I ; 
'  who  dares  insult  free  citizens,  because  they  are  not  forty 
shillingers  ?  You  could  n't  treat  them  wus,  if  they  was  nas- 
ty, dirty,  despisable  niggers ;  and  yet  you  boast  your  glori- 
ous constitution.  Will  any  member  answer  me  this  ?  Have 
they  blood  in  their  veins?  —  and  if  they  have,  it  must  be 
free  blood  ;  and  if  free,  it  must  boil.'  (Tickle,  tickle  goes 
my  'boscis  agin,  and  I  had  to  stop  to  sarch  my  pocket  for 
my  nose-rag.)  '  The  honorable  gentleman,'  says  some 
feller  another,  for  most  on  'em  were  strangers  to  me, 
'  mean  u  blood-puddin',  I  suppose.'  Ah !  I  thought  I 
should  have  gone  ravin',  distracted  mad.  I  knew  I  was 
talkin'  nonsense,  that  I  had  run  off  the  tracks  with  all 
steam  on,  and  was  a-plowin'  thro'  the  mud  in  the  fields 
like  anything.  Says  I,  'I'll  have  your  blood,  you  scoun- 
drel, if  you  dare  to  say  that  agin,  see  if  I  don't,  so  there 
now.'  Oh,  dear,  such  shoutin',  and  roarin',  and  clappiu' 
of  hands,  I  never  heerd ;  my  head  run  round  like  a  spin- 


f 


PLAYINC,    A    CAIID. 


88 


nin'  wlicel ;  it  wns  rU  burr,  burr,  burr,  buzz,  buzz,  buzz. 
I  bit  in  my  breath  to  keep  cool ;  I  felt  I  was  ou  the  edge 
of  a  wharf,  and  only  one  step  more  was  over  head  and  ears 
chewallop  in  the  water.  '  8am,'  says  I,  to  myself,  •  be  a 
man  ;  be  cool  —  take  it  easy  ;'  so  I  sot  off  agin,  but  I  was 
BO  confused  I  got  into  my  other  speech  on  agricultur',  that 
I  had  larncd  by  heart,  and  mixed  the  two  together  all  in  a 
ravel.  '  Thistles,'  says  I,  '  is  the  bane  of  all  good  hus- 
bandry. Extirpate  them  from  the  land ;  they  are  usurpin' 
the  places  of  grain,  and  all  Sllckville  will  be  filled  with 
polls.  If  they  have  no  voice  in  this  assembly,  how  can 
you  expect  them  to  obey  the  laws  they  never  made.  Com- 
pel folks  to  cut  them  down  in  the  full  of  the  moon,  and 
they  '11  all  die ;  I  have  tried  it  myself  with  univarsal  suf- 
frage and  the  ballot.' 

"  Well,  artillery  is  nothin'  but  a  popgun  to  the  noise  the 
members  now  made — it  was  an  airthquake  tipped  with 
thunder  and  lightning.  I  never  heerd  nothing  like  it.  I 
''-jlt  I  was  crazy  ;  I  wished  I  was  dead"  a'most,  or  could  sink 
through  the  floor  into  the  middle  of  the  sea,  or  anywhere 
but  where  I  was.  At  last,  Cousin  Woodberry  took  pity  on 
me,  and  came  over  to  where  I  was,  and  said,  *  Sam,'  said 
he,  'set  down,  that's  a  good  feller;  you  don't  know  what 
you  are  a-doin'  of;  you  are  makin'  an  ass  of  yourself.* 
But  I  didn't  hear  him.  'Confound  you!'  said  he,  'you 
look  mean  enough  to  put  the  sun  into  eclipse,'  and  he  laid 
hold  of  the  skirts  of  my  coat,  and  tried  to  pull  me  down ; 
but  instead  of  that,  he  pulled  'em  right  off,  and  made  an 
awful  show  of  me.  That  sot  me  off  agin,  quite  ravin'  as 
bad  as  ever.  '  I  won't  be  put  down,'  says  I,  *  Mr.  Speak- 
er ;  I  fight  for  liberty  and  the  polls ;  I  stand  agin  the  for- 

2 


'iHf 


84 


8AM    SLICKS    SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


l^t 


u 


ty  sliillingevs.  LiihaiKl  me,  yon  slave!'  snid  I;  'touch 
me  not,  or  I  '11  sacrifice  you  on  the  altar  of  ir.y  country  ;* 
and  with  that  I  ups  fist  and  knocks  Woodberry  over  as  flat 
as  a  pancake,  and  bolts  right  out  of  the  hall. 

"  But  I  was  so  blinded  with  the  cold  in  my  head  and  rage 
together,  I  couldn't  see  no  m.ore  nor  a  bat,  and  I  pitched 
into  several  members  in  the  way  out,  and  'most  broke  their 
necks  and  my  own  too.  It  was  the  first  and  the  last  of  my 
speech-making.  I  went  b^  the  name,  for  years  arterward, 
in  cur  town,  of  '  Frc e-and-equal  Slick.'  I  wish  I  could 
wipe  out  that  page  of  my  follies  from  my  memoiy,  I  tell 
you ;  but  it 's  a  caution  to  theni  that  navigate  in  politics, 
that's  a  fact. 

"  Nothin'  on  this  side  of  the  water  makes  so  big  a  fool  of 
a  man,  squire,  ho  continued,  as  goin'  to  the  house  of  repre- 
sentRtives,  without  bein'  fit  for  it.  Them  that  hante  jist  got 
the  right  v  eight  of  ballast  are  upsot  in  no  time,  and  turned 
bottom  upward,  afore  they  know  where  they  be.  Them 
that  are  a  little  vain  by  natur'  get  so  pufiFed  up  and  so  con- 
saited,  they  become  nothin'  but  laughin'  stocks  to  all  the 
world,  most  ridiculous  fools ;  while  them  whose  principles 
ain't  well  anchored  in  good  holdin'-ground,  let  the  rogue 
peep  out  o'  tlieir  professions  plainer  than  they  are  a-th ink- 
in'  on.  The  skin  of  the  beast  will  show  through,  like  an 
Irishman's  elbow,  though  he  has  three  coats  on.  But  that 
ain't  the  worst  of  it,  i.eether.  A  man  is  apt  to  become 
bankrupt  in  business,  as  well  as  in  character,  by  it.  Doin' 
big  and  talkin'  big  for  three  months  in  the  year,  and  puffin' 
each  other  up  till  thev  are  ready  to  bust  with  tlieir  impor- 
tance, don't  convene  with  sellin'  tape  by  the  yard,  or  load- 
in'  on  carts,  when  they  return  home  to  their  business.     In 


I 


^  tz 


^ 


l'LAYIN(}    A    CARD. 


35 


short,  squire,  a  country  ouglit  to  be  a  rich  country,  with 
larned  met  iu  it,  and  men  o'  property  to  represent  it,  or 
else  assembly-work  is  notbin'  but  high  life  below  stairs, 
arter  all.  I  could  point  you  out  legislatms  on  this  here 
continent  where  the  speakin'  is  all  kitchin-talk,  all  strut, 
brag,  and  vulgar  impedence.  It 's  enough  to  make  a  cat 
sick  to  hear  fellers  talk  of  independence  who  are  mortgaged 
over  head  and  ears  in  debt,  or  to  listen  to  chaps  jawin* 
about  public  vartue,  temperance,  education,  and  what-not, 
all  day,  who  spend  the  night  in  a  back  room  of  a  market- 
tavern,  with  the  key  turned,  drinkin'  hail-storm  and  bad 
rum,  or  play  in'  sixpenny  loo.  If  mankind  only  knew  what 
fools  they  were,  and  how  they  helped  folks  themselves  to 
fool  them,  there  would  he  some  hope  of  them,  for  they  would 
have  larnt  the  first  lesson  of  wisdom. 

"  But  to  sum-totalize  my  story  :  the  next  time  I  went  to 
poor  old  minister'^  arter  that,  says  he,  '  Sam,'  says  he, 
*  they  tell  me  you  broke  down  the  other  day  in  the  house 
of  represents ^ti'M,  and  made  a  proper  gag  of  yourself.  I 
am  very  sorry  for  you,  very  sorry  indeed ;  but  it  is  no  uso 
now  a-cryin'  over  spilt  milk.  What  can't  be  cured,  must 
be  endured,  I  do  suppose  ;  but  I  do  wish,  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul,  you  had  a-taken  my  advice  and  left  politics 
alone.'  —  'Don't  mention  it,  minister,'  said  I:  'I  am 
ashamed  to  death  of  mj^self,  and  shall  leave  Slickville  till 
it's  blowed  over  and  forgot;  I  can't  bear  to  hear  of  it ;  it 
fairly  makes  me  sick.  It  was  a  great  card  I  had  tho',  if  I 
had  only  pi.ayed  it  right,*  says  I,  •  a  very  great  card  in- 
deed.  In  fact  it  was  more  than  a  card —  it  was  high,  low, 
Jack,  and  the  game.*  —  'What  was  it,'  said  he,  'that  was 
worth  all  tliat  'are  nonsense  V  — '  Univarsal  suffrage,'  says 


36 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


l( 


ro 


I 


\ 


I.  — '  Sam,'  said  lie  (and  I  know'd  I  was  in  for  a  lectur', 
for  he  knit  his  brow,  and  looked  in  rael  right  down  airnest) 
*you  don't  know  what  you  are  a-talkin'  about.  Do  you 
know  what  univarsal  suffrage  means?' — *  To  be  sure  I  do,' 
says  I ;  'it's  every  man  havin'  a  vote  and  a  voice  in  ma- 
kin'  those  laws  that  is  to  govern  him ;  and  it  comports 
with  reason,  and  stands  to  common  sense.' — '  Well,' says 
he,  'what's  all  this  when  it's  fried?  uhy,  it  amounts  to 
this,  and  nothin'  more  nor  less:  7iow  men  of  property  and 
character  make  lavs  to  govern  rogues  and  vagabonds,  but 
by  your  be«Mtiful  scheme  of  univarsal  suffrage,  rogues  and 
vagabonds  will  mahe  laws  to  govern  men  of  pro'perty  and 
character.  It  is  revarsin'  the  order  of  things ;  it  is  worse 
than  nonsense ;  it  is  downright  madness.  We  are  fast  ap- 
proaching this  state,  without  your  aid,  Sam,  I  can  tell  you ; 
aid  when  we  do  arrive  at  it,  we  shall  be  an  object  of  scorn 
to  point  at  from  Europe.  We  shall  then  have  wound  up 
the  fearful  tragedy  of  our  revolution  with  as  precious  a 
farce  as  folly  and  licentiousness  ever  produced.'  —  'Minis- 
ter,' says  I,  '  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  you  have  such  a 
short-hand  way  of  puttin'  things,  that  there  is  no  contra- 
dictin'  of  you.  You  jist  squeeze  all  the  argument  up  in  a 
ball,  as  easy  as  dough,  and  stop  a  feller's  mouth  with  it. 
How  the  plague  is  it  that  you  seem  always  right?' — '  Be- 
ciuse  I  never  play  a  card,  Sam.  I  never  consider  what  is 
expedient,  but  what  is  right;  never  study  what  will  ticJcle 
the  ears  of  people,  but  what  will  promote  their  ivelfare. 
You  would  have  been  all  straight,  too,  if  j'ou  had  only 
looked  to  the  right  and  wrong  of  the  measure ;  but  you 
looked  to  2)opularity,  and  that  sot  you  to  7?layin'  of  a  card. 
Now  the  upshot  of  this  popular  gambling,  or  card-/)laying. 


BEHIND   Tin:   SCENES. 


37 


is  paiiiotisin ;  and,  mark  my  Avoids,  Sam — mark  my 
words,  my  boy,  for  I  am  an  old  man  now,  and  have  read 
the  human  lieart  well  —  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hun- 
dred, iHitrlutiam  is  the  trump-card  of  a  scoundrel.*  " 


CHAPTER   III. 


nEHI.XD   THE    SCENES. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Mr.  Slick  had  ever  made 
such  an  absurd  exhibition  of  himself  in  the  legislative 
hall  of  Slickvillc,  as  he  thought  proper  to  portray  in  the 
anecdote  related  in  the  last  chapter.  He  was  evidently  a 
man  of  too  much  tact  and  natural  good  sense,  to  have  ren- 
dered hiniF^lf  so  ridiculous;  nor  must  we,  on  the  other 
hand,  attribute  his  making  himself  the  hero  of  the  tale  to 
an  absence  of  vanity,  for  few  men  had  a  greater  share  of  it 
than  himself.  It  probably  arose  from  his  desire  to  avoid 
personalities,  and  an  amiable  anxiety  not  to  furnish  a  tra/- 
eller  with  names  that  might  hereafter  appear  in  print  to  the 
annoyance  of  the  real  actors.  Indeed,  so  rich  did  he  think 
himself  in  experience  and  knowledge  or  the  world,  that  he 
felt  he  could  afford  to  draw  at  wUl  on  his  own  reputation. 
How  true  to  nature  is  the  graphic  sketch  in  the  last  chap- 
ter, and  how  just  the  reflections  to  which  it  gave  rise !  1 
can  call  to  mind  so  many  instances,  even  in  my  own  lim- 
ited sphere  of  observation,  to  which  his  remarks  are  appli- 
cable, that  I  recognise  at  once  the  fidelity  of  the  picture 
and  the  hand  of  a,  master.     Upon  my  expressing  to  him  an 


88 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYlNfiS   AND   DOINGS. 


t)\ 


intention  to  record  his  illustration  of"  playing  a  card"  as  a 
valuable  lesson  in  life — "All,  sir,"  said  he,  with  the  air  of 
a  man  who  felt  1.3  had  a  right  to  boast,  "  I  have  I'arned  to 
*look  behind  the  scenes.'  Major  Bradford  taught  me  that 
air'y  in  life.  It  was  him  put  that  wrinkle  on  my  horn. 
He  was  the  gentleman  that  traded  in  calves  and  punkins 
for  the  Boston  market,  him  t'mt  you've  got  down  in  your 
first  series,  that  took  me  to  tlie  Tremont  house,  the  time 
the  gall  lost  her  runnin'-riggin'  in  the  crowd.  Well,  one 
arternoon,  havin'  nothin'  above  pitikilar  to  do,  I  goes  and 
dresses  myself  up  full  fig,  and  was  a-posten  away  as  hard 
as  I  could  leg  't,  full  chisel  down  by  the  Mall  in  Boston,  to 
a  tea-and-turn-out  to  Sy  Tupper's.  Sy  had  an  only  drtrter 
called  Desire ;  she  warn't  a  bad-lookin'  piece  of  farniture 
neither ;  folks  said  she  would  have  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  was  a-thinkin'  of  spekelating 
there,  and  was  a-scouterin*  away  as  hard  as  I  could  leg  it 
to  the  party.  Who  should  I  meet  on  the  road  but  the 
major  a-pokin'  along  with  his  cocoanut  down,  a-studyin' 
over  somethin'  or  another  quite  deep,  and  a-workin'  up  the 
baccy  in  great  style,  for  nothin'  a'most  will  make  a  man 
chaw  like  cipherin'  in  his  head  to  himself.  '  Hullo,  major,' 
said  I,  *  who  's  dead,  and  what's  to  pay  now  ?  why,  what's 
the  matter  of  you  1  you  look  as  if  you  had  lost  every  freend 
you  had  on  airth.' — '  H'are  you,  boy  ?' said  he;  'give  us 
your  fin,  and  then  tell  us  which  way  you  are  a-sailin'  of 
this  fine  day,  will  you  V  But  jist  as  I  was  a-goin'  to  take 
hold  of  his  hand,  he  drew  back  the  matter  of  a  yard  or  so, 
and  eyed  me  all  over  from  head  to  foot,  as  if  he  was 
a-measurin'  me  for  a  wrastlin'  bout. 

"  Says  he, '  I  '11  bet  you  a  five-dollar  piece,  Sam,  I  know 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES. 


89 


where  you  are  a-goin' to-night.'  —  'Done,'  said  I, 'it's  a 
bargain  :  now,  where?'  — '  A-whalin','  says  he. —  *  A  what !' 
says  I.  —  'On  a  whaliu'  voyage,'  said  he.  —  'Hand  out 
your  five  dollars,'  says  I,  '  for  you  missed  your  guess  this 
hitch  anyhow.  I  am  a-goiu'  down  to  Sy  Tupper's  to  tea 
and  spend  the  evenin'.* — 'Exactly,'  said  he,  '  goin' a-gal- 
lin' ;  I  know'd  it,  for  you  are  considerably  large  print,  and 
it  don't  take  spectacles  to  read  you.     She  io  in  ilea, 

that  gall;  her  father  made  his  money  a-whalin',  and  folks 
call  her  '  Sy  Tupper's  spermaceti.'  Bah  !  she  smells  of 
blubber,  that  greasy-faced  heifer  ;  let  her  bide  where  she 
be,  Sam.  You  han't  been  ^behind  the  scenes'  yet,  I  see, 
and  that  screech-owl  in  petticoats.  Mother  Tupper,  is  an 
old  hand.  She  will  harpoon  you  yet,  if  you  don't  mind 
your  eye  ;  now,  mark  what  I  tell  you.  Come  with  me  to 
the  t\\e-atre,  and  I  '11  show  you  a  gall  of  the  right  sort,  / 
know.  Helen  Bush  comes  on  in  tights  to-night.  She  is  a 
beautiful-made  crittur,  that,  clean-limbed  and  as  well  made 
as  if  she  was  tur>ied  in  a  mould.  She  is  worth  lookin'  at, 
that's  a  fact;  and  you  don't  often  get  such  a  chance  as 
that  are.' — 'Dear,  dear,'  said  I,  'in  tights!  well,  if  that 
do  n't  beat  all !  I  must  say  that  don't  seem  kinder  nate- 
ral  now,  does  it,  major?'  — '  Nateral !'  said  he,  •  what  the 
devil  has  natur'  got  to  do  with  it  ?  If  she  followed  natur* 
she  would  n't  wear  nothin'  at  all.  Custom  has  given  wo- 
men petticoats  and  men  pantaloons,  but  it  would  be  jist  as 
nateral  for  woman  to  wear  the  breeches  and  men  the 
apron-string,  and  there  is  a  plaguy  sight  of  them  do  it,  too. 
Say  it  ain't  modest  and  I  won't  non-concur  you,  but  do  n't 
talk  about  natur',  for  natur'  has  no  hand  in  it  at  ail.  It  has 
neither  art  nor  part  in  it,  at  no  rate.     But  take  my  advice, 


40 


SAM    SLICK'S    SAYIN(}S    AND    DOTNfJS. 


>   V 


^1 


my  greenborn,  and  stiuly  natur'  a  bit.  Folks  may  talk  of 
tbeir  Latin  and  Greek  till  tlioy  are  tired,  but  give  nie  na- 
tur'. But  to  study  it  rigbt  you  must  get  '  behind  tlie 
scenes  ;'  so  come  along  witb  me  to  tlie  bouse.' 

"  Well,  I  never  was  to  a  tbeatre  afore  in  all  my  life,  for 
minister  didn't  approbate  tbem  at  no  rate,  and  be  wouldn't 
never  let  me  go  to  *em  to  Slickville ;  so  tbinks  I  to  myself, 
'  I  don't  care  if  I  do  go  tbis  once  ;  it  can't  do  ;  e  no  great 
barm,  I  do  suppose,  and  a  gall  in  tigbts  is  sometbing  new  ; 
60  bere  goes,'  and  I  turns  and  walks  lock-and-lock  witb  bim 
down  to  tbe  play  bouse.  Well,  I  must  say  it  was  a  splen- 
did sigbt,  too.  Tbe  bouse  was  cbock  full  of  company,  all 
dressed  out  to  tbe  very  nines,  and  tbe  lamps  was  as  brigbt 
as  day,  and  tbe  music  was  splendid,  tbat's  a  fact,  for  it  was 
tbe  black  band  of  tbe  militia  (and  tbem  blacks  bave  most 
elegant  ears  for  mujic,  too,  I  tell  you),  and  wben  tbey 
struck  up  our  blood-stirrin'  national  air,  it  made  me  feel  all 
over  in  a  twitteration  as  if  I  Avas  on  wires  a'most,  consid- 
erable martial. 

"  But  wbat  gave  me  tbe  gapes  was  tbe  scenes.  Lord, 
squire,  wben  tbe  curtain  drawed  up,  tbere  was  Genesee 
falls  as  nateral  as  life,  and  tbe  beautiful  four-story  grist-mills 
taken  off  as  plain  as  anytbing,  and  Sam  Patcb  jist  ready 
to  take  a  jump  in  the  basin  below.  It  was  all  but  rael,  it 
was  so  like  life.  Tbe  action,  too,  was  equal  to  the  scenes ; 
it  was  dreadful  pretty,  I  do  assure  you.  Well,  arter 
a  while,  Helen  Busb  came  on  in  tigbts ;  but  I  can 't  say  I 
lihed  it;  it  didn't  seem  kinder  rigbt  for  a  gall  to  dress  up 
in  men's  clothes  that  way,  and  I  sorter  thort  that  notliin' 
a'most  would  tempt  me  to  let  Sister  Sail  show  shapes  arter 
that  fasbion  for  money.     But  somebow  or  someliow-else 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES. 


41 


in' 

tcr 


folks  huriawed  and  clapped  and  cheered  like  anything.  It 
was  so  excitiu*  I  hurrawed  too,  at  last,  as  if  I  was  as  well 
pleased  as  any  of  them,  for  hollerin'  is  catchin*,  like  bark- 
in'  among  dogs,  and  you  can't  help  it  no  how  you  can  fix 
it.  Well,  arter  legs  lost  their  novelty,  a  whole  lot  c'  dan- 
cin'  galls  came  forward  and  danced  quod-dviWs,  gallop-pards, 
hornpipes,  and  what-not,  the  most  beautiful  critturs,  I  think, 
I  ever  laid  my  eyes  on — all  young  and  bloomin*,  and  grace- 
ful and  light  as  spirits  a'most.  They  seemed  as  if  they  e'en 
a'most  belonged  to  another  guess-world  from  ourn,  only  the 
rosy  cheeks  and  bare  necks,  and  naked  arms,  and  dear 
little  ankles,  all  smacked  of  rael  life. 

•* '  What  do  you  think  of  them  V  said  the  major  ;  *  han't 
they  fine  glass-spun  heels,  them  critturs.  I  guess  you  don't 
often  see  such  fetlocks  in  Slickville  as  them  ;  for  your  galls, 
if  I  don't  mis-remember,  are  rather  beefy  about  the  instep : 
what  do  you  think  of  them,  my  boy,  eh  V  — '  Think?'  says 
I ;  *  why,  I  never  seed  the  equal  of  it.  Where  the  plague 
did  they  pick  up  such  a  lot  of  elegant  galls  ?  they  are  hor- 
rid pretty,  I  must  say  :  are  they  foreigners  or  naXives  %*  — 
*  Natives,'  said  he,  '  ^^rwMvinc  Jonatheenas,  all  raised  in 
Conne'ticut,  and  silver-skinned  inions  every  soul  of  them. 
Would  you  like  to  be  introduced  to  them?' — '  Wcl!,*  says 
I,  'I  would,  that's  a  fact,  for  it's  enough  to  set  a  feller 
crazy  a'most,  actilly  ravin*,  distracted  mad  with  pleasure, 
the  sight  of  so  many  splendid  little  fillies,  ain't  it?'  — 
'Well,  come  along  with  me,  then,'  said  he;  *jist  foller  me, 
and  I  '11  take  you  round  there.'  So  out  we  goes  into  the 
entry,  and  follers  along  into  a  dark  passage  —  a  pretty  dif- 
ficult navigation  it  was,  too  —  among  trap-doors,  and  boxes, 

and  broken  steps,  and  what-not;  and,  arter  a  while,  we  en- 

o* 


J 


42 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND    t^oINGS. 


ters  a  great  onfamished  barn  of  a  room  alongside  of  the 
stage,  and  there  was  the  players,  and  dancers,  and  singers, 
and  ever  so  many  actin'  people.  Well,  it  was  a  wonderful 
siglit,  too ;  p'raps,  in  all  my  born  days,  I  never  see  any- 
tliing  to  equal  it.  I  never  was  so  staggered.  I  don't 
tliink  all  my  starin'  put  together,  would  come  up  to  the 
great  big  endurin'  stare  I  then  gave.  I  was  onfakilised, 
that 's  a  fact.  I  stood  for  the  whole  blessed  space  of  five 
minutes  without  movin'  or  speakin'.  At  last,  one  of  the 
dancin'  galls  came  a-figerin'  up  to  me  a-hornpipin',  and 
a-singin*,  and  dropt  me  a  low  curtshee.  'Well,  my  old 
rooster,'  said  she,  *  the  next  time  you  see  me,  I  hope  you 
will  know  me  ;  where  did  you  I'arn  manners,  starin'  so  like 
all  possest.'  Well,  I  warn't  much  used  to  town-bred  galls, 
and  it  took  me  all  aback  that,  and  struck  me  up  all  of  a 
heap,  so  I  couldn't  stir  or  speak.  *0h,  fie,  Julia,'  said 
another,  'how  can  you!'  and  then  comin'  up  and  tappin* 
me  on  the  shoulder  with  her  fan,  to  wake  me  up  like. 
Said  she,  *  Pray,  my  good  feller,  does  your  mother  know 
you're  out?'  The  whole  room  burst  out  a-larfin'  at  me; 
but  no,  move  or  speak  I  couldn't,  for  I  was  spell-bound,  I 
do  believe.  There  I  stood  as  stiff  as  a  frozen  nigger,  and 
all  I  could  say  to  myself  was,  •  Heavens  and  airth  !' 

"At  last,  another  gall,  the  best  and  lightest  dancer  of 
them  all,  and  one  that  I  rather  took  a  leetle  fancy  to  on  the 
stage,  she  was  so  oncommon  spry  and  active,  took  a  flyin'  lep 
right  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  lit  down  on  one  foot, 
and,  then  balancin'  herself  as  she  did  on  the  stage  with  her 
hands,  stretched  the  other  foot  away  out  ever  so  far  behind 
her.  Well,  arter  perchin'  that  Avay  a  minit  or  so,  as  a  bird 
does  on  a  sprig  of  a  tree,  she  sprung  agin,  right  forrard,  and 


BKHIND   THE   SCENES. 


48 


brought  herself  bolt  upright  on  both  feet  jist  afore  me. 
*  What  will  you  give  me,  my  young  'coon,'  said  she,  '  if  I 
show  you  the  way  V  — '  What  way  ?'  said  I,  at  last, 
a-scratchin'  of  my  head  and  a-pluckin'  up  spunk  enough 
to  find  my  tongue.  '  The  way  out,*  said  she,  •  for  you 
seem  as  if  you  sorter  lost  your  road,  when  you  came  in 
here.  I  thought  every  one  in  the  room  would  have  gone 
into  fita  they  larfed  so ;  they  fairly  screetched  till  they 
most  loosed  their  teeth,  all  but  her,  and  she  looked  as  quiet 
as  a  baby. 

"  '  Well  done,  Angelica,'  said  the  major ;  *  what  a  wicked 
little  devil  you  be !'  and  he  put  his  arm  round  her  waist 
and  kissed  her ;  and  then,  said  he,  '  Waiter,  half  a  dozen 
of  iced  champaigne,  here,  to  pay  for  Mr.  Slick's  footin ;' 
and  if  he  and  them  galls  didn't  tuck  in  the  wine  in  great 
style,  it's  a  pity,  that's  all.  Well,  a  glass  or  two  of  liquor 
onloosed  the  hinges  of  my  tongue,  and  sot  me  all  right  agin, 
and  I  jined  in  the  joke  and  enjoyed  the  larf  as  well  as  the 
best  of  them;  for  it  won't  do  to  get  cross  when  fellers  are 
running  of  their  rigs  ;  it  only  makes  them  wus. 

"  Arter  a  while  we  left  the  theatre  to  go  home,  and  as 
we  progressed  down  street,  says  the  major  to  me,  *  Well, 
Slick,'  says  he,  *  how  did  you  like  them  little  angels,  the 
dancin'  galls  ?  you  seemed  as  amazed  as  if  you  was  jist 
born  into  the  world,  and  looked  rather  struck  with  them,  I 
thought,  pitikilarly  Angelica ;  a  neat  little  article,  that, 
ain't  she  ?  There 's  no  nonsense  about  her ;  she  is  as 
straight  as  a  shingle  in  her  talk,  right  up  and  down,  and 
no  pretense.  I  guess  she  has  put  '  Sy  Tupper's  sperma- 
ceti' quite  out,  han't  she]*  —  'It  puts  all  creation  out,'  said 
I ;  '  I  never  was  so  stumpt  afore  since  I  was  r&.sed  from  a 


f      _ 


44 


SAM   SLICK'8   HAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


secdlin'.  Heavens  .'uid  aii  th  !  only  to  tliink  them  iinsty, 
tjiwdry,  faded,  yaller,  jaded,  painted  drabs  was  the  beautU 
ful  dancin'  galls  of  the  thcrttie  1  and  them  old,  forrerd,  im- 
pudent heifers  was  the  modest,  graceful,  elegant,  little 
cherubs  that  was  on  the  stage  an  hour  afore ;  and,  then,  to 
think  them  nasty  daubs  was  like  Genesee  falls.  Lord,  I 
could  paint  them  pictur'-scenes  better  myself,  with  a  nig- 
ger-wench's house  mop,  I  could,  I  snore.' — 'Exactly,'  says 
the  major;  'you  have  been  'behind  the  scenes,'  you  see, 
Sam,  and  you  have  got  a  lesson  not  to  trust  to  appeaivinces 
altogether.  Rael  life  is  one  thing,  and  stage-representa- 
tion is  another.  The  world  '  behind  the  scenes,'  and  what 
is  exhibited  on  the  boord  is  as  different  as  day  is  from 
night.  It  tan'tt  all  gold  that  glitters  in  this  life,  I  can  tell 
you.  Jist  so  it  is  with  *  Sy  Tupper's  young  spermaceti ;' 
for  I  see  you  want  to  spikilate  in  iles  there. 

"  '  When  you  double  Cape  Horn,  as  yer  in  hopes  for  to  do, 
There 's  a  plenty  of  sparm-whale  on  the  coast  of  Peru.' 

What  a  life  for  a  man  to  be  the  wick  of  an  ile  lamp,  ain't 
it?  and  have  your  wife  snuffing  you  with  her  fingers.  It's 
as  bad  as  having  your  onquestionable  ugly  nose  pulled. 
Oh,  yes,  take  her  by  all  means,  only  get  '  behind  the  scenes' 
first,  you  have  only  seed  her  yet  of  an  evenin',  and  then 
she  was  actin'  rigged  out  for  a  party,  a-smilin'  and  a-doin' 
sweet  and  pretty,  and  a-wearin'  of  her  company  face,  and 
singin'  like  a  canary-bird.  But  go  into  '  the  green-room,' 
see  her  of  a  mornin',  get  a  peep  at  a  family  scene,  drop  in 
on  'em  of  a  sudden,  onexpcctod  like,  and  t^ee  the  old  cat 
and  her  kitten  a-caterwaulin'  and  clapper-clawin'  each 
other  till  they  make  the  fur  fly,  and  you  will  be  jist  as 
much  dumfoundcrcd  as  you  was  s.t  the  dancin'  galls;  you 


r.KIIIND   THE   SCRNES. 


46 


won't  know  her,  that's  n  fact;  you'll  find  that  your  beau- 
tiful '  spermaceti'  has  turned  out  nothin'  but  tallow,  and 
damn  bad  tallow,  too.  Such  critters  run  more  nor  half 
away  to  waste,  and  give  more  grease  than  light,  by  a  long 
chalk.  But  come,'  said  he,  '  s'posin'  you  and  me  settle  our 
little  account,  for  short  reckonings  make  long  friends,  as 
the  sayin'  is.  First,  there  is  your  five-dollar  bet;  then  siy 
bottles  of  iced  champaigne,  at  three  dollars  each,  is  eigh- 
teen dollars  more ;  and  then  two  dollars  for  tickets,  makes 
a  total  of  twenty-five  dollars ;  do  you  undercumstand  1 
Come  into  the  iseter-shop  here,  and  plank  the  pewter,  and 
I  will  go  sheers  with  you  for  a  supper  of  iseters.  It 's  a 
considerable  of  a  dear  lesson,  that;  but  it's  the  best  you 
ever  got,  /  know.'  —  'Dear!'  said  I,  a-countin'  out  of  the 
money  to  him,  '  I  guess  it  is  dear.  If  all  my  schoolin'  in 
town-ways  is  to  cost  at  that  rate,  I  guess  I'll  have  more 
I'arnin'  than  capital  when  I  get  thro'  my  trainin'.  Twenty- 
five  dollars  for  bein'  made  a  fool  on,  for  them  dancin'  galls 
to  laugh  at  for  two  hours,  what  a  pretty  go  that  is,  ain't  it  ? 
I  must  say  I  don't  thank  you  a  bit,  major;  it  warn't  pretty 
at  all.'  — '  Who  the  devil  axed  you  for  thanks  V  said  he  ; 
'you  have  done  better,  you  have  paid  for  it,  man,  and 
boughten  wit  is  always  the  best ;  but  you  will  thank  one 
for  it  some  o'  these  days,  see  if  you  don't.  It's  better  to 
be  made  a  fool  on  for  two  hours  than  for  life.  I  have 
known  a  feller  silly  enough  to  marry  a  dancin'  gall  afore 
now  ;  but  then  he'd  never  been  '  behind  the  scenes,'  as  you 
have;  yes,  it's  a  valuable  lesson,  that.  Your  old  fogy  of 
a  parson  that  you  are  always  a-talkin'  of,  old  Hop  —  Hope 
something  or  other,  may  preach  away  to  you  till  he  is  blind, 
but  he  can't  I'arn  you  anytliing  equal  to  that.     It's  a  les- 


46 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   ANE    i)0ING9. 


son  from  life,  and  a  lesson  from  life  is  worth  a  hundred  sar- 
mons.  In  everything  a'most,  Sam,  in  this  world,  consider 
you  are  either  deceived  or  liable  to  be  deceived,  aid  that 
you  can't  trust  even  the  evidence  of  your  own  senses,  un- 
less you  look  '  behind  the  scenes.*  But,  come,'  said  he, 
*  preaching  is  not  my  trade,  let  us  walk  into  half  a  bushel 
of  these  iseters ;  they  are  rael  salts ;  they  come  from  Nova 
Scotia,  and  better  than  any  we  have,  or  the  British  either ;' 
and  we  sot  to  and  did  justice  to  them,  at  least  he  did,  you 
may  depend.  He  walked  'em  into  him  as  a  duck  does  a 
June  bug.  He  could  open,  pepper,  and  swaller  a  dozen  to 
my  one,  for  somehow  I  never  could  get  my  knife  into  the 
j'int  of  one  until  arter  half  an  hour's  bunglin' ;  I  hadn't 
got  the  knack.'  '  You  don't  seem  to  like  them,'  said  he,  at 
last,  a-drawin'  breath,  and  a-swallerin'  a  gill  of  pure  whis- 
key ;  *  p'l'aps  you  are  too  patriotic  to  eat  blue-noses'  iseters, 
and  prefer  the  free  citizens  of  our  own  beds  V  — '  Ko/  said 
I,  *  it  tan't  that;  I  can't  open  them,  they  are  so  oncommon 
tight  about  the  jaws.'  —  'Hem!'  said  he,  'I  forgot  that. 
You  never  seed  an  iseter,  I  do  suppose,  or  a  dancin'-gall 
nother  afore  to-night.  Do  as  I  do,  younker ;  this  is  the  way : 
freeze  down  solid  to  it,  square  up  to  it,  as  M  you  was  a-goin* 
to  have  an  all  out-door  fight  of  it;'  and  he  slipped  'em  out 
o'  the  shells  into  his  mouth  as  fast  as  a  man  dealin'  cards, 
until  he  fairly  finished  all  we  had.  *  You  don't  drink,'  said 
he  ;  '  now  that's  not  wholesome  ;  you  ought  to  take  enough 
of  the  neat  liquor  to  make  'em  float  light  on  the  stomach ;' 
and  he  just  tipt  off"  the  balance  of  the  whiskey  without 
winkin'.  '  Ah  !'  said  he,  making  a  wry  face,  '  that's  no  go  ; 
that  last  iseter  was  not  good ;  it 's  upsot  me  a-most ;  call 
for  some  more,  and  I  '11  be  in  agin  in  a  minit;  I  must  go  into 


HEUIXD   THK   SCENES. 


47 


the  air,  for  1  feel  dizzy.'  Well,  I  called  for  some  more  iseters 
and  some  more  whiskey,  and  I  sot  and  worked  away  at  my 
leisure,  and  waited  for  him  to  come  back  and  pay  his  share 
of  the  shot.  Woll,  I  waited  and  waited  for  ever  so  long, 
till  I  e'en  a'most  fell  asleep,  and  still  no  major.  At  last,  I 
began  to  get  tired,  so  I  knocks  on  the  table  with  the  han- 
dle of  a  knife  for  the  nigger-help.  '  Snowball,'  says  I, 
'have  you  seen  anything  of  the  major?  where  on  airth  is 
he?  I'm  waitin'  for  him  to  settle  the  bill.'  — '  Massa  hab 
to  wait  den,  one  berry  long  time,  sar ;  de  last  iseter,  sar, 
he  always  fix  major's  flint,  sar,  and  make  him  cut  his  stick. 
You  won't  see  him  no  more,  sar ;'  and  he  grinned  from  ear 
to  ear  like  a  cliessy-cat.  '  De  bill  is  four  dollar,  massa,  and 
a  quarter-dollar  for  Snowball.'  —  *  Hem  !'  says  I  to  myself, 
'  a  nod  is  as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind  horse ;  I  see  it  now ; 
I'm  bilked ;'  so. I  paid  it,  and  said  no  more  on  the  subject. 
That  was  another  peep  *  behind  the  scenes,'  that  '  he  who 
incurs  j'int  expenses  should  look  to  the  honesty  and  sol- 
vency of  his  partners.' 

"  I  did  n't  grudge  the  money  for  what  I  I'arned  that 
night,  altho'  it  came  to  a  horrid  sum,  too  —  twenty-nine 
dollars  and  a  quarter  —  for  it 's  worth  every  cent  of  it,  that's 
a  fact.  But  what  did  touch  me  to  the  quick  was  this:  he 
drew  the  wool  over  my  eyes  so  about  Desire  Tupper  that 
I  gin  up  a-goin'  there,  and  then  he  cut  in  there  and  got  the 
prize  hisself;  he  did,  upon  my  soul!  All  that  talk  about 
her  temper  was  made  out  of  whole  cloth,  and  got  up  a  pur- 
pose, along  with  her  nickname  of  '  Spermaceti,'  to  put  me 
out  of  consait  of  her,  and  it  answered  the  purpose  most 
beautiful.  Yes,  he  did  me  most  properly  all  the  way 
through  the  chapter;  but,  p'raps,  it  will  all  turn  out  righv 


48 


BAM    SLICK'S   SAYIN{;S    AND    DOINGS. 


in  the  long  luii,  for  I  was  too  yomig  tlien  to  uiarry,  or  to 
liaiidle  so  Tiuich  iiionoy,  for  'light  conic'  is  plaguy  apt  to  turn 
out  •  light  go ;'  hut,  at  the  time,  I  was  most  peskily  riled,  I 
tell  you  ;  and  if  I  had  a  seed  him  when  I  was  so  oncom- 
mon  wrathy,  I  do  helieve,  in  my  "^oul,  I  slumld  have 
tanned  his  jacket  for  him,  so  that  he  would  have  heen  a 
caution  to  bchoi  1.  1  am  a  good-uater'd  man,  and  can  hear 
spittiu'  on;  but  hang  me  if  I  can  stand  and  have  it  rubbed 
in  that  way.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do  when  I  got  home, 
whether  to  tel!  the  story  or  not ;  but  I  knew  it  would  leak 
out,  and  thought  my  own  varsion  of  it  would  be  the  best, 
so  1  jist  ups  and  tells  father  all  about  it,  from  first  to  last. 
'He  is  a  nasty,  dirty,  low-lived,  mean  feller,'  says  father, 
'  and  a  disgrace  to  the  commission,  though  one  comfort  is, 
he  ain't  a  rcg'lar,  and  never  seed  sarvice,  and  I  dispise  an 
ofiiccr  that  has  never  smelt  powder.  No  man  in  the  coun- 
try but  a  veteran  desarves  the  name  of  soldier,  and  them, 
it  ain't  no  vanity  to  say,  are  the  first  troops  in  the  univarse 
—  for  the  British  have  Avhippcd  all  the  world,  arid  we 
whipped  thom.     Yes,  he  is  a  scoundrel,'  said  the  old  man; 

*  but  still  the  information  you  got  is  worth  liavin'.  It  is  a 
knowledge  of  tl"^  world,  and  that  is  invaluable ;  although, 
from  what  I  seed  in  the  wars,  I  am  most  afeerd  a  man  of 
the  world  ain't  a  man  of  much  heart  in  a  gineral  way. 
Still,  the  knowin'  it  is  worth  the  I'arnin'  it.  Acquire  it, 
Sam,  if  you  can;  but  you  musn't  pay  too  dear  for  it. 
Now,  the  major  gin  more  for  his  vit  than  you.'  —  'Possi- 
ble?' said  I,  'why,  how  is  that?'  —  'Why,'  says  father, 

*  he  bought  his  at  the  expense  of  his  character,  and  the 
leastest  morsel  of  character  in  the  v/orld  is  worth  more  nor 
all  that  is  to  be  I'arnt  '  hchiud  the  scenes'.'  " 


THE   BLACK    BROTHER. 


49 


CHAPTER   IV. 


THE    CI.ACK    BROTHER 

•'  Yfs,  squire,"  said  tlio  clockmnker,  "  there  is  nothin' 
like  lookin'  '  bcliind  tlie  sceiies'  in  this  world.  I  rather 
j*ride  myself  on  that  lesson  of  Major  Bradford.  It  came 
airly  in  life,  and  was,  as  he  said,  the  best  lesson  I  ever 
had.  It  made  me  an  obsarvin'  man.  It  taught  me  to  look 
into  things  considerable  sharp.  I  *ve  given  you  a  peep  be- 
hind the  scenes  in  assembly  matters,  so  that  you  can  ji.Jge 
how-  far  patriots  and  reformers  show  the  painted  face  ;  and 
at  the  theatre  what  devils  little  angels  of  dancin'-galls  turn 
out  sometimes  ;  and  now  I  '11  tell  you  a  story  of  '  the  Black 
Brother,'  to  show  you  Ioav  cantin'  fellers  can  carry  two 
faces,  also,  when  they  choose,  for  I've  been  'behind  the 
scenes'  there,  too.  I  mentioned  to  you  afore,  if  you  recol- 
lect, that  we  had  a  p})lit  once  to  Slickville  in  our  congre- 
gation, about  the  voluntary,  and  that  som»  of  the  upper- 
crust  folks  went  oft"  in  a  huff,  and  joined  the  '  Christian 
band,'  as  they  called  themselves,  or  the  awakeners  as  we 
call  'em.  "Well,  these  folks  went  the  whole  figur',  and 
from  bein'  considerable  proud  men,  affected  great  humility, 
and  called  each  other  '  brother,'  and  oidy  associated  with 
each  other,  and  kept  the  rest  of  mp'ikind  oif  ai  arm's  length, 
as  if  they  were  lost  ones,  and  it  would  contaminate  them, 
Idee,  to  keep  company  with  them.  It  broke  poor  old  min- 
ister's heart  a'most,  for  they  parsccuted  him  artcrward  most 


( 


50 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINCJS   AND   DOINGS. 


dreadful ;  there  was  notliin'  too  bad  for  them  a'niost  to  say 
of  the  okl  church,  for  in  a  gineral  way  thein  that  secede 
(lo7i't  go  off  in  peace^  hut.  go  off  armed  for  a  Jight,  as  if  they 
e.rj)ectcd  to  he  cJiased  and.  hrovght  hack  again.      Pride  and 
temper  is  alvwst  always  at  the  hottom.  of  schism,  you  ivill 
find.     Ahab  Meldruin  was  one  of  these  superfine,  overly 
good  men,  and  jist  about  as  parfect  a  specimen  of  a  hypo- 
crit  as  I  e'en  a'most  ever  came  across  in  all  my  travels. 
Well,  I  was  to  Ahab's  one  day  a-settlin'  some   business 
with   him,  and  a  pretty  tough  job  I  had  of  it — for  you 
might  as   well  drag   out  an  eyctooth,  without  lancin'  the 
gum,  as  to  drag  a  debt  out  of  these  whitewashed  gentlemen 
—  and  who  should  come  in  but  a  scentorifevous  black  man, 
his  woolly  head  all  done  up  in  roll-curls  like  cotton  in  the 
cardin'  mills,  and  a  large  shovel-hat  in  his  hand,  and  wear- 
in'  a  fine  frill-shirt,  and  dressed  off  to  the  very  nines,  for  a 
nigp-er  is  as  fond  of  finery  as  a  peacock  is  of  iiis  tail.    They 
arc  for  spreadin'  it  out  and  a-struttin'  about  in  it  for  ever 
and  ever  a'most.     If  there  was  a  thi?ig  on  airth  that  Ahab 
hated  like  pison,  I  do  believe  it  was  a  great  bull-nigger ;  so 
seein'  him  come  in,  in  that  free  and  easy  manner,  he  looks 
up  at  him  quit©  stiff — for  the  better  a  man  is,  the  prouder 
he  grows  in  a  gineral  way  —  and,  without  biddin'  him  the 
time  o'  day  (which  wouldn't  'a'  hurt  him  one  morsel,  tho' 
vhe  crittur  was  as  black  as  Comingo),  or  movin'  from  his 
chair,  or  axin'  him  to  sit  down,  says  he,  *  Well,  sir,  what 
brought  you  here?  what's  your  business?'     It  made  me 
laugh,  for  I  kneio  humility  icas  the  dress-coat  of  j^ride,  and 
that  we  was  agoin'  to  have  a  scene,  for  I  seed  by  the  cut 

at  he  was  a  preacher.     *  Oh,  massa,* 


jib 


said  he,  'I  is  a  broder  labover  in  de  Lord's  wineyard,  de 


THE   BLACK   BROTHER. 


51 


on  worthy'  (and  he  made  a  bow  at  that  word,  as  much  as  to 
say,  there  is  a  peg  for  you  to  liang  a  compliment  on,  if  you 
like),  •  de  onworthy  shepherd  ob  de  little  flock  of  free  col- 
or'd  Christians  to  Martin  Vanburinvilie.    I  jist  call'y,  massa 
broder,  to  cossult  you  about  some  business  ob  "  our  little 
Christian  band.'"  —  'Sit  down,   sii,   if  you  please,'   says 
Ahab,  a-colorin'  up  like  anything,  for  he  seed  his  own  pro- 
fessions was  set  like  a  fox-trap  afore  him,  and  he  knew  it 
was  nuts  to  me,  and  that  I  wouldn't  spare  him  one  mite  or 
morsel.     '  Sit  down,  sir.'  — '  Tankey,  sar,  tankey,'  said  Dr. 
v^uery,  for  that  was  the  nickname  the  crittur  went  by; 
'how  is  all  your  consarns,  and  your  leetle  flock?     I  hope 
dey  is  all  well,  and  none  on  'em  jumpin'  de  fence,  and  get- 
tin'  out  o'  de  fold,  among  neighbor's  sheeps :  mine  gib  me 
great  bodder  dat  way,  werry  great  bodder,  indeed.     Mine 
all  shockin'  fond  ob  music,  and  go  whereber  dere  is  de  best 
singin';  but,  I  believe;  we  may  stump  any  sec  for  dat,  and 
werry  fond  ob  Greek,  too.'  —  '■  Of  Greek  !'  said  Ahab,  who 
was  dumbfoundcred  at  the  turn  things  took ;  '  did  you  say 
Greek '''  —  ' Yes,  massa,' said  the  doctor,  'of  Greek;'  and 
he  i'  V  V   v\  old,  well-worn  grammar  from  his  pocket,  and 
opeaih    , ..     aid,  '  Broder,'  said  he,  '  what  you  call  him  V 
p'intin'  to  a  pitikilar  word.     *  That,'  said  Ahab,  who  I  seed 
was  a-gittin'  of  his  dander  up  quite  fast,  '  that  is  ^^  eureckar  ^ 
—  'Ah,'  said  the  doctor,  'I  know  him  by  sight,  but  I  no 
recollect  his  name ;  by  golly  !  but  Greek  him  werry  hard, 
werry  hard,  indeed.     I  try  to  I'arn  a  {q,"^  words,  for  dey 
sounds  well  in  de  pulpit,  and  look  grand.     Colored  people 
no  tinkey  you  know  nottin',  if  you  no  gib  'em  hard  words 
sometimes ;    and   Broder   Sly,   he   teach  me   to   say   'em. 
Well,  Broder  Meldrum,'  he  says,  at  last,  '  I  is  glad  I  "  cu- 


52 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


reeka'^  you  <at  home ;  here  is  de  supers'.'iiptlon  for  de  new 
meetin'-house ;  put  you  fist  to  dut,  broder,  and  come  down  like 
a  man  liansum.'  Poor  Ahab,  he  shrunk  from  the  touch  as  if 
it  was  hot  iron,  and  from  tha  subscription-paper,  too,  as  if  it 
was  his  death-warrant.  *  Brother,*  said  he,  and  that  word 
'  brother'  stuck  in  his  crop  so  he  had  to  cough  twice  afore  he 
coukl  get  it  out,  and  smelt  so  strong  in  his  nose  he  had  to 
take  out  his  handkerchief,  all  scented  with  musk,  to  get  clear 
of  the  f  )go  of  it,  •  here  are  two  dollars.' — '  Oh,  massa  broder/ 
said  blackey,  '  only  two  dollar  !  By  golly  !  but  I  ginn  five 
myself.  'Member,  sar,  he  what  gibs  to  de  church,  lends  to 
de  Lord.  Come,  broder,  mend  de  figur,  dat's  a  good  soul; 
you  won't  be  one  morsel  de  poor  of  it  in  de  long  run,  you 
may  depend.*  But  Ahab  was  tough.  Stickin'  a  subscrip- 
tion-paper into  a  very  strait-laced  man,  even  for  building  a 
schism-shop  for  his  own  folks,  is  like  stickin*  a  needle  be- 
hind an  ox's  ear  —  it  kills  him  dead  on  the  spot.  *  The  la- 
borer is  worthy  of  his  hire,  broth  —  broth — '  he  couldn't 
come  it  a  second  time,  so  he  ginn  it  up  in  despair ;  *  wor- 
thy of  his  hire,  sir.  You  were  wrong,  very  wrong,  sir,  to 
do  it :  the  congregation  should  do  their  own  work  them- 
selves.'—  'Well,  well,'  said  blackey,  a  good  deal  discon- 
sarted  at  the  failure  of  his  application,  'p'raps  you  is  right, 
broder,  p'raps  you  is  right ;  you  noes  better  den  us  pcfor 
colored  folks  does.  I  has  seed  a  great  deal  of  trouble  late- 
ly, broder,'  said  Query.  '  My  congregation  is  the  most 
difficultest  to  manage  I  did  ever  see,  pitikilarly  de  fair  sec, 
and  has  had  a  split  in  it.  Dat  everlastin'  sinner  and  crook- 
ed 'sciple  of  a  nigger,  Ben  Parsons,  dat  is  too  lazy  to  work 
hisself,  de  good-for-nottin'  feller,  he  tinks  he  preach  better 
nor  me,  de  consaited  fool !  and  he  sot  up  for  hisself,  and  se- 


THE    BLACK    IJROTHEU. 


53 


ceded,  .and  I  lose  twenty  dollars  a  year  of  my  livin' by  him, 

and  seme  o'   my  best  singers,  too.     Cato  Cooper's  three 

daup^liters,  Cleopatra,  Portia,  and  Juno,  all  left  to  foller 

arter  de  yo"ng  preacher,  and  dcy  had  mos  superfine  voices, 

hotter  nor  most  nigga-wenches  has,  and  sing  as  well  as 

tcatre  women,  dey  did.     Yes,  it's  lucky  for  massa  Ben  I 

is  a  Christian  man,  dat  uses  no  carnal  weapon,  or  I'd  feel 

his  short  ribs  for  him,  and  take  my  change  out  of  his  hide, 

de  villain. 

"  '  Dc  Raccoon  {jinn  to  scratch  and  bite, 
I  hitty  once  wid  all  nui  mifjht, 
I  biinjjy  eye  and  s])ilc  his  sijjht, 
Oh]  he  de  child  to  fight !' 

But  I  is  a  new  man  now  wid  de  ungenerate  heart,  and  only 
fight  old  Scratch,  old  Adam,  or  old  sin,  but  not  a  broder  in 
de  flesh  —  no  naber  I  ain'  goin'  get  mad  no  more. 

"  '  For  little  childcr  ncher  let 
De  anfrry  passions  rise, 
Your  little  hands  were  neber  made 
To  tear  each  odor's  eyes.* 

Nothin'  else  save  him  from  catchin'  it,  for  I  is  de  boy  dat 
could  do  it.  Lord,  I'd  run  him  foul  of  a  consternation, 
afore  he  know'd  what  was  de  matter  of  him.  Temper,  him 
werry  trong,  and  say,  cuss  him,  bung  up  both  he  eye,  and 
put  in  de  dead  lite ;  but  I  is  a  preacher  now,  and  religion 
advise  werry  different,  and  say,  "  Let  him  go  to  de  debil  his 
own  way,  de  willain."  He  ain't  worth  powder  and  shot, 
and  dat  is  de  fack,  for  he  is  more  crookeder  in  his  ways  nor 
a  dog's  hind-leg,  or  ram's  horn,  the  ungenerate,  ungrateful 
beast.  Den  I  hab  great  trouble  to  home,  too  ;  I  lost  JMiss 
Wenus,  my  Avife,  last  week  ;  she  died  of  de  ribilious  chollc. 
But  she  died  happy,  werry  happy,  indeed,  scrcctchiu'  and 


54 


RAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


Bcronniin'  for  joy,  and  made  a  most  lovely  corpse.  I  tink 
she  was  de  most  beautifulest  corpse  I  ever  did  see  —  it  was 
a  pleasure  to  look  at  her.  Broder  Sly  improved  de  occa- 
sion, and  spoke  four  hours  and  a  half  widout  "topin',  werry 
powerful  did  de  leetle  man  ;  we  had  a  Averry  refreshin' 
lime  of  it,  and  beautiful  singin' ;  oh,  by  golly  !  but  it  was 
grand  :  Yes,  I  hab  great  troubh  ,  and  I  'most  fear  I  will 
*ab  go  to  sarvice  agin,  for  troubles  rise  c/n  as  de  sparks  do; 
and  if  I  do  ginn  up  preachin'  agin,  if  I  don't  pitch  into 
Ken  Parson's  ribs  like  a  tousand  of  bricks,  it's  a  pity, that's 
all.  I  '11  make  hawk's  meat  ob  him.  Cryin'  over  spilt 
milk  is  no  use,  tho' ;  s'pose  we  conclude  our  talk  with  a 
varse  of  music ;'  and  before  Ahab  could  recover  from 
amazement  at  the  freedom  of  his  new  brother,  and  the 
mortification  of  my  witnessing  the  scene,  he  was  struck 
speechless  with  vexation  at  Dr.  Query  pulling  out  a  flute 
from  his  pocket,  and  putting  the  parts  together  with  a 
great  many  llourishes,  and  a  lot  of  babooneries,  wettin'  the 
threaded  ends  in  his  mouth,  and  forcin'  them  together  with 
main  strength.  '  Now,  broder,'  said  he,  spittin'  on  the  eends 
of  his  fingers  to  make  'em  stop  better,  'if  you  and  de  entire 
stranger  dere,'  pointin'  to  me,  *  will  strike  up  a  varse  of  mu- 
sic, ticklin'  metre,  I  will  j'in  you  wid  de  flute  : — 

'  Adam  was  de  fust  man, 
Eve  was  de  tudder, 
Cain  was  a  wicked  man, 

'Cause  he  killed  him  bruddcr.' 

Abel  wasn't  name  right,  was  he  1  for  he  warn't  "able"  for 
Cain,  by  no  manner  of  means.  But  it  makes  beautiful  mu- 
sic, very  beautiful,  indeed  ;  you  have  no  notion  of  it,  no 
more  nor  a  child.     It  is  the  forty-elebenth  varse  of  Broder 


THE   BLACK   BROTHER. 


B\y's  new  ode ;'  and  he  immediately  commenced  playing 
the  air.  '  Come,  broder,'  said  he,  '  begin,  and  I  will  pitch 
it  for  you.' 

"  I  thought  Ahab  would  have  fainted,  he  was  so  struck 
up  all  of  a  heap  He  knew  I  would  tell  the  story  all  round 
the  town,  and  he  was  as  mad  as  a  hatter  ;  for  nothin'  makes 
a  man  boil  over  so  quick  as  to  have  the  cover  put  on  and 
keep  the  steam  in.  He  was  jist  ready  to  bust,  and  make 
all  fly  agin  with  rage.  At  last,  said  he,  a-tryin'  to  bite  in 
his  breath,  '  This  gentleman,  Mr.  Slick,  has  some  business 
of  importance  to  transact  this  mornin'  with  me.  I  am 
afraid  I  can  not  now  join  in  the  exercise  ;  but  some  other 
time  will  have  the  pi — pleas — .  I  will  try  to  do  it.'  — 
*  Oh,'  says  I,  '  do  n't  mind  me,  Ahab,  I  beg  ;  I  should  like 
it  above  all  things.  There  is  nothin'  I  am  so  fond  of  as 
psalmody  in  consart  with  the  flute.  Dr.  Query  is  right; 
it  makes  excellent  superior  music  ;  so  come,'  says  I,  '  let  *8 
try ;  our  accounts  has  kept  for  three  years,  they  '11  keep 
for  half  an  hour  longer ;  do  n't  disappoint  the  gentleman.' 
—  'Yes,'  said  blackey,  'by  golly,  but  it's  grand,  dat  is  a 
fack.  "  Adam  was  de  fust  man  ;"  '  and  he  set  off  in  a  vol- 
untary agin.  'Brother,'  said  Ahab,  for  he  was  obliged 
now  to  bolt  that  word,  *  my  friend  is  not  in  a  frame  of 
mind  :  he  is  not  a  man  of  experience.  Put  up  your  instru- 
ment. Let  us  take  another  opportunity.'  Well,  the  poor 
devil  felt  he  warn't  wanted  there  at  all.  He  seed  Ahab 
was  ashamed  of  him,  and  that  pride,  not  business,  was  the 
stumbliii'-block ;  so  he  separated  the  j'ints  of  his  flute,  put 
them  in  his  pocket,  and  rose  to  depart. 

"Now,  squire,"  continued  the  clockmakcr,  "  p'rnps  you 
don't  know,  foi  you  can't  have  seed  much  (.f  the  black;:', 


5(> 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINCS    AND    DOlNdS. 


l)ut  wliat  1  'ni  goin'  for  to  tell  you  is  a  fact,  I  assure  you. 
"VVlien  a  nigger  is  friglitencd  or  vexed,  there  is  a  parfume 
comes  from  liiin  that's  enough  to  stifle  you.  If  you  don't 
believe  me,  ask  Lord  —  Lord — what  the  plague  is  his 
name  that  was  out  to  the  West  Ingees?  Well,  dancin'  the 
emancipation-dance  with  a  black  heifer  there,  e'en  a'most 
killed  him.  It  did,  upon  my  soul ;  it  all  but  pison'd  him. 
It's  aw^ul,  that's  a  fact.  Well,  this  crittur  Query  so  filled 
the  room  with  it,  it  most  choked  me.  I  was  glad  to  see 
him  get  up  for  to  go,  I  tell  you ;  but  what  does  he  do  but 
come  round  to  Ahab  to  take  leave  of  him.  *  Broder,'  said 
he,  'fare-de-well;  peace  be  wid  you,  my  lubbin'  fren* ;' 
and  he  held  out  his  great  ily  black  paw  to  shake  hands 
with  him.  ;  Poor  Ahab  !  he  looked  like  a  crittur  that  is 
a-goin'  to  be  put  in  the  stocks,  resigned  to  his  fate  because 
he  couldn't  help  himself,  but  mean  enough,  too.  He  prided 
himself  on  his  hand,  did  Ahab,  it  was  so  small  and  so  white. 
He  used  to  say  it  was  'ristocratic,  and  that  it  would  be  a 
fortin  for  a  single  man  like  him  to  England ;  and  he  actilly 
slept  in  gloves  lined  with  pomatom  to  keep  the  freckles  off; 
I  hope  I  may  be  shot  if  he  didn't.  He  was  topgallant-sail 
proud  of  them,  I  tell  you ;  so  he  looked  at  the  great  piece 
of  raw  nigger-meat  that  was  afore  him  with  horror;  and 
arter  makin'  all  sorts  of  wry  faces  at  it,  as  a  gall  does  when 
she  takes  physic,  he  shut  his  eyes  and  dropped  his  hand 
into  It.  Oh,  it  was  beautiful !  It  did  me  good  to  see  the 
hypocrite  worked  up  that  way.  Query  shook  and  wrung 
away  at  it,  as  a  washwoman  does  at  a  wet  towel,  for  ever 
so  long;  and,  at  ]nst,  he  let  go  his  hold  and  went  off,  and 
Ahab  drew  in  his  hand,  all  stained  yaller,  as  if  it  had  been 
dipped  into  tobacco-juice.     He  held    it   out  from    him  at 


THE   BLACK    BROTHER. 


57 


arm's-length,  as  a  feller  does  that  falls  into  the  dirt,  and 
n-bitln'  in  his  breath,  and  curlin'  up  his  nose  as  mad  as  a 
hear  with  his  tail  shot  off',  and  went  into  the  bedroom,  and 
^v ashed  and  scrubbed  away  at  it  like  anything.  When  he 
was  gone,  I  opened  the  winders  and  ventilated  the  room  ; 
for  it  smelt  as  bad  as  one  of  the  narrer  alleys  hi  Old-Town 
Edinbro',  or  a  slave-ship  —  it  was  shocking  nosey,  I  tell 
you.  As  soon  as  he  came  back,  says  he, '  Sam,  that  poor 
feller  means  well,  but  he  has  mistaken  his  calling;  he  has 
too  much  levity,  I  fear,  for  a  minister' — 'I  give  you  joy,' 
gays  I,  *  of  your  new  "  broder"  and  "feller-laborer  in  de 
wineyard."  It  sarves  you  right,  so  it  does.  If  you  had 
a  stuck  to  your  own  church  you  wouldn't  'a'  had  to  endure 
what  you  jist  went  thro',  /know.  No  bishop  would  ordain 
that  man ;  for  he  would  see  with  half  an  eye  he  had  no 
sense,  and  waru't  no  way  fit  for  it  at  all  except  to  make 
things  look  ridikilous ;  but,  if  anybody  can  go  and  choose 
preachers  that  please,  as  they  do  hogreeves  at  town-meet« 
in's,  why  can't  niggers  elect  whom  they  please,  too?  it's  a 
bad  rule  that  won't  work  both  ways.  This  comes  o' 
schism  —  one  error  always  leads  to  another.  Now  don't, 
for  goodness'  sake,  make  such  everlastin'  pretences  as  you 
do,  unless  your  ^v&ctice  keeps  up  to  your  professions.  I 
hate  hypocrites,  and  I  won't  spare  you.  Whenever  folks 
talk  of  you  and  the  Slickville  schism,  hang  me  if  I  don't 
tell  'em  of  rhe  B/ack  Broth -r^ 

3 


68 


HAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THB    GREAT    UNKNOWN. 

"Well,  squire,"  said  the  clockmaker,  "I'm  glad  you 
are  goin'  to  England,  too.  I  can  guide  you  thro'  Britain 
as  well  as  I  can  thro'  the  states,  or  the  provinces,  for  I  've 
been  there  often ;  I  know  every  part  of  it.  They  are 
strange  folks  them  English,  On  pitikilars  they  know  more 
than  any  people ;  but  on  generals  they  are  as  ignorant  as 
owls.  Perhaps  there  ain't  no  place  in  the  world  such  non- 
sense is  talked  as  in  parliament.  They  measure  every  one 
by  themselves,  as  father  did  about  his  clothes.  He  always 
thought  hisn  ought  to  Jit  all  his  boys,  and  proper  laughing- 
stocks  he  made  of  us.  Yes,  you  have  made  the  Yankees 
and  the  blue-noses,  squire,  look  pretty  considerable  foolish 
in  them  are  two  books  of  yourn.  Stand  on  t'other  tack 
now,  and  take  a  rise  out  of  the  British ;  for  fair  play  is  a 
jewel,  that's  a  fact.  John  Bull  has  been  a-larfin'  at  us 
until  his  sides  heaves  like  a  broken-winded  horse  ;  clap  the 
currycomb  on  him  now,  and  see  if  his  hide  is  thicker  than 
ourn ;  for  he  is  always  a-sayin'  that  the  Yankees  are  the 
most  thin-skinned  people  in  the  world.  There  is  a  grand 
field  in  that  country,  you  may  depend,  and  a  noble  har- 
vest for  you.  Walk  into  'em  with  your  sickle,  and  cut  and 
bind  till  you  are  tired  j  you  will  find  employment  enough, 
I  tell  1/ou.  We  may  have  our  weak  points,  and  I  should 
like  to  know  who  th*?  plague  hasn't;  but  John  has  both 


iig(i 


THE   V.UKAT    UNKNONVN. 


69 


''  IS  a 

.1 

it  us 

'■■'> 

)  the 

than 

3  the 

1-^ 

rand 

har- 

and 

ugh, 

t-^u 

)uld 

.■a| 

)oth 

f: 

'  f. 

his  weak  ppots  and  soft  spots,  too,  antl  I  '11  p'int  'em  out  to 
you,  so  that  you  can  give  him  a  sly  poke  that  will  make 
him  ruu  foul  of  consternation  afore  he  knows  it.  I  '11  show 
you  how  to  settle  his  coffee  for  him  without  a  fish-skin,  I 
know,  so  begin  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  as  much  sooner  as 
you  have  a  mind  to." 

On  n)y  own  part,  I  was  no  less  pleased  to  have  him  with 
me ;  for  few  men  in  British  America  have  so  intimate  a 
knowledge  of  the  character,  feelings,  and  prejudices  of  the 
people  of  the  colonies  as  Mr.  Slick,  or  a  more  clear  concep- 
tion of  the  policy  that  ought  to  be  pursued  toward  them  by 
the  mother-country.  So  strongly  was  I  impressed  with 
this  conviction,  that  I  could  not  help  expressing  to  him  a 
hope  that  circumstances  might  arise  during  our  visit  to 
England  to  bring  him  in  contact  with  some  of  the  leading 
members  of  parliament,  as  I  felt  assured  he  could  give 
most  valuable  and  useful  information  on  a  subject  which, 
though  of  immense  importance,  was  but  little  understood. 
"  Lord,  sir,"  said  he,  **  I  've  seen  some  on  'em  when  I  was 
there  afore  (for  I  've  been  three  times  to  England),  and 
know  it  well ;  but  they  did  n't  want  the  right  information, 
and  so  I  bammed  them  —  they  did  n't  want  facts  to  make 
opinions  on,  but  facts  to  tally  with  opinions  formed,  like 
British  travellers  in  the  states,  and  I  always  stuflF  such 
folks.  I  had  a  most  curious  'venlur'  when  I  was  last  in 
London. 

"I  had  been  down  city  all  day  a-skullin'  about,  and 
trampoosing  everywhere  a'most  to  sell  some  stock  in  the 
canal  that  is  to  run  through  the  pine  barrens  in  the  Quahog 
territory,  that  I  bought  for  half  nothin',  and  wanted  to  put 
off  to  advantage,  and  returned  to  my  lodgings  awful  tired. 


uO 


HAM    SLICK'S   SAYIN(;S    AND    I)()1N(JS. 


nnd  as  wet-footed  as  a  duck.  I  had  jiKt  drawed  off  my 
boots,  got  snug  afore  the  fire,  with  a  cigar  in  my  inoutli  ami 
uiy  feet  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  a-toastin'  of  them  to  tlic 
coals,  when  the  servant  maid  opened  the  door  and  a  gen- 
iknnan  entered  a-bowin'  very  ginteel,  and  say  in',  'Mr.  Slick, 
1  presume.' — 'Well,'  says  I,  '  I  won't  say  I  ain't;  but  won't 
you  come  to  an  anchor  and  be  seated :  you  must  excuse 
ine,'  says  I,  'a-gettin'  up,  for  my  feet  is  wet.'  Well,  he  sot 
down  and  eyed  me  from  head  to  foot,  as  if  he  thought  1 
was  a  little  onder  baked,  or  not  altogether  right  famished 
in  the  upper  story. — 'Our  humid  climate,'  says  he,  at  last, 
*  must  be  very  different  from  the  cloudless  sky  and  pure  air 
of  Nova  Scotia.' — 'Very,' says  I,  'it  rains  here  for  ever- 
lastingly. ■  1  have  on?y  seen  the  sun  once  since  I  came  here, 
and  then  it  looked  as  if  it  had  the  cholerd  in  the  black 
stage;  but  my  feet  is  what  I  complain  of  most.  Now  to 
i:omt  I  wear  ingian  rubbers;  but  they  don't  do  on  the 
pavements  here;  for  they  make  you  slide  about  as  if  you 
was  on  the  ice.  I  had  to  leave  them  off,  for  I  pitched  into 
every  one  I  met  a'most,  and  it  warn't  pretty  at  all.' — 'How 
long  is  it,'  said  he,  'since  you  left  Nova  Scotia?' — Thinks 
I  to  myself,  '  W^hat  in  natur'  is  this  crittur'  after  ?  I'll  jist 
Craw  him  out  by  doin'  simple.'  Now  that  is  natiir',  squire. 
If  ever  you  want  to  read  a  man,  do  simple,  and  he  thinks 
he  has  a  soft  horn  to  deal  with;  and,  while  he  s'poses  he  is 
i--playin'  you  off,  you  are  puttin'  the  leake  into  him  with- 
out his  seein'  it.  Now,  it  you  put  on  the  knowin'  it  puts 
him  on  his  guard  directly,  and  he  fights  as  shy  as  a  loon. 
Talkin'  cute,  looks  knavish;  but  talkin'  soft,  looks  sappy. 
Nothin'  will  make  a  feller  bark  up  a  wrong  tree  like  that: 
60,  without  answerin'  to  the  pint  (that  I  might  bring  him 


-•  I 


r 


THE  GREAT    UNKNOWN. 


61 


to  \m  buHiness),  sayr  I — 'for  wet  feet  there  is  nothin'  like 
toastin'  them  afore  the  fire :  it  draws  Jie  cold  out,  and  keep3 
it  from  flyin'  to  the  stomack,  and  saves  you  a  fit  of  the 
mulligrubs  p'raps.  I  larnt  that  from  the  Tngians;  they 
always  sleep  with  their  feet  to  the  fire,  and  at  night  lays 
all  in  a  circle  round  it  like  the  spokes  of  awheel.  I  never 
yet  seed  an  Ingiun  with  a  cold  in  his  nose.* — 'How  verf/ 
good,'  said  he,  'what  a  close  observer  of  natur'  you  are,  sir. 
I  shall  remember  that  recipe  of  yours ;  it  is  excellent.' — As 
much  as  to  say,  'Well,  if  you  don't  beat  Solomon,  I  bean't 
nobody.*  Thinks  I  to  myself, '  I  dare  say  you  will  mind  it, 
but  more  to  laugh  at  than  foller  at  any  rate.' 

"At  last,  says  he,  thinkin'  it  was  time  to  come  to  the 
pint,  'I  am  desired,  sir,  by  a  distinguished  friend  of  mine, 
to  request  the  favor  of  you  to  give  him  an  interview  when- 
ever it  may  be  convenient  to  you,  as  he  has  heard  mucb. 
of  your  knowledge  of  the  provinces,  and  is  anxious  to  get 
all  the  information  he  can  previous  to  the  Canada  question 
coming  on  for  discussion.' — 'Hem!'  says  I  to  myself, '7 
wonder  whether  this  is  fact  or  bam.  It  do  n't  seem  to 
hang  very  well  together  nother,  but  it  mought  be  a  bee  for 
all  that,  as  the  old  woman  said  when  she  looked  into  thc^ 
hornet's  nest  for  honey.'  So  to  prove  him,  says  I,  'As  to 
convenience,  let  me  see — I  must  consider  a  bit, — to-morrow 
I  go  to  Bristol,  by  Great  Western  Hallway,  and  next  dav 
I  make  tracks  for  New  York,  so  if  I  go  at  all  I  must  go 
now.' — 'Now?'  said  he. — I  seed  it  posed  him,  that  he  didn't 
expect  it  so  soon. — 'Now?'  said  he  agin,  and  he  mused  a 
bit;  and  then  said  he,  'I  am  sorry  the  time  is  so  short,  sir, 
but  if  you  will  be  so  kind,  my  carriage  is  at  the  door,  and 
I  will  drive  you  there  as  soon  as  you  are  ready,  for  my 


62 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


friend  would  be  much  disappointed  in  not  having  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  you.'     '  Civil  enough  too,'  thinks  I,  '  and  as  I 
never  seed   a  parliamentary  big  bug,   I  should   like  the 
chance,  if  it  was  only,  like  a  colony  delegate,  to  have  it  to 
brag  on  arter  I  got  home;  so  I  goes  into  the  chamber,  puts 
on  a  clean  shirt-collar,  slips  on  a  pair  of  dry  boots,  and 
runs  a  comb  through  my  hair.     '  Now,'  says  I,  when  I  comes 
back  to  the  sittin'-room,  'let's  up  killock  and  off,  for  it's 
gettin'  on  considerably  well  in  the  arternoon,  and  is  a'most 
daylight  down,  and  if  he  sets  me  a-goin'  on  colony  subjects 
I  won't  knew  when  to  leave  off,  for  it  takes  time  to  spin 
them  yarns,  I  tell  you!     So  we  showed  a  leg  right  off,  trot- 
ted down-stairs,  and  into  the  coach  in  no  time,  and  says  he 
to  the  driver,  *  Home  !'  — '  Home  !'  says  I  to  myself;  '  why, 
who  the  devil  can  this  crittur  be  ?     Is  he  a  member'o  son, 
or  his  writin'  and  cipherin'  clerk,  or  a  lover  of  one  of  the 
galls  ?  or  who  is  he,  th.it  he  says  *•  Home,"  for  he  must  live 
there,  that 's  sartin  ?'    Well,  I  did  n't  like  to  ask  him  direct, 
for  1  knew  I  *d  find  it  out  soon,  and  so  I  let  it  pass.    •  And, 
squire,'  said  he,  'among  the  wrong  notions  the  British  have 
of  us  Yankees,  one  is  about  our  etarnal  curosity,  and  axing 
questions  for  ever  abort  nothin'  a'most.     Now,  it  happens 
to  be  jlst  the  revarse :  we  are  not  famous  for  axing  ques- 
tions, but  for  never   answerin'  them.'     Arter  a  while  the 
coach  stopped,  and  'fore  I  could  look  round  I  was  in  the 
hall,  surrounded  by  officers  of  the  Life-Guards,  dressed  in 
the  most  beautiful  toggery,  at  least  so  I  took  them  to  be, 
for  their  uniform  was  splendid  ;  I  never  see  anything  to 
equal  it  except  the  president's  on  reviewin'  the  troops  on 
the  fourth  of  July  day.     It  made  me  wish  I  had  brought 
my  militia  dress,  for  I  did  n't  like  one  of  our  citizens  to  be 


THE  GREAT   UNKNOWN. 


63 


outdone  that  way,  or  not  to  do  credit  to  our  great  nation 
when  abroad. 

" '  Excuse  me  a  moment,'  said  my  guide-friend,  *  till  I 
announce  you;'  and  presently  out  comes  another  man 
dressed  in  plain  clothes,  and  they  stood  there  a  space, 
a-eyin'  of  me,  and  a-whisperin'  together.  'He  won't  do,' 
said  the  new-comer;  'look  at  his  boots.'  —  'It  can't  be 
helped,'  said  the  other ;  '  he  must  see  him,  he  sent  for  him 
himself.' — 'Who  the  devil  is  he?'  said  the  stranger;  'is 
he  a  delegate  or  a  patriot  member  of  assembly,  or  what  is 
he,  for  he  is  the  queerest  lookin'  devil  I  ever  saw?'  — 
•  Hush !'  said  guide,  '  he  is  the  celebrated  "  Sam  Slick," 
the  Yankee  cloekmaker ;  and,'  said  he,  '  they  may  talk 
about  the  feller's  shrewdness  as  much  as  they  please,  but 

he  is  the  d est  fool  I  ever  saw  !' 

" '  Well,'  says  I  to  myself,  '  this  is  rather  pretty  too,  ain't 
it  ?     I  guess  you  think  flashin*  in  the  pan  scares  ducks, 
don't  you?     One   thing  is  sartin,  tho' ;   you  don't  often 
look  in  the  glass,  anyhow,  or  you  'd  know  the  face  of  a  fool 
when  you  see  one,  which  is  more,  I  estimate,  than  you  do 
at  this  present  time.'     With  that,  guide  said  to  one  of  the 
sodgfA-officers  that  was   a-standin'  in   the  hall  a-doin'  of 
nothfn',  '  Show  him  up.'     So  one  of  them,  a  very  tall,  hand- 
some man,  with  his  head  all  covered  with  powder,  like  a 
rat  in  a  flour-barrel,  come  up  and  said,  '  Your  name,  if  you 
please,  sir?'  —  'Well,'  says  I,  'I  don't  know  as  it  matters 
much  about  names,  what's  yourn  ?'  —  'Thomas,  sir,' said 
he,  a-bowin*  and  a-smilin'  very  perlite.     '  Well,  then,'  said 
I,  '  friend  Thomas,  mine  is  Mr.  Slick,  to  the  backbone.*     I 
no  sooner  said  the  word,  than  he  bawled  out  '  Mr.  Slick'  in 
my  ear,  as  loud  as  he  could  roar,  till  be  made  me  start 


T!^^WfW^^<?|^S<^Ww3 


64 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


again ;  and  then  every  officer  on  the  stairs,  and  there  was 
several  of  them  there,  kept  repeatin'  after  each  other,  '  Mr. 
Slick!'  'Mr.  Slick!"  Mr.  Slick  !'—•  Don't  be  in  an  ever- 
lastin',  almighty  hurry,'  said  I;  'I'm  a-comin'  as  fast  as  I 
can,  and  if  you  do  that  'are  agin  I  won't  come  at  all,  so 
there,  now !'  for  I  began  to  get  my  Ebenezer  up,  and  feel 
rather  wolfish.  When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  the 
officer  stood  back  and  made  room  for  me ;  and  says  I,  '  Af- 
ter you,  sir ;'  but  he  hung  back  quite  modest  (seein'  that  an 
American  citizen  ranks  with  the  first  man  livin*).  So,  not 
to  be  outdone  in  raaniiers  by  a  mere  Britisher,  I  took  him 
by  the  arm  and  pushed  him  on.  *I  can't  think  of  goin' 
afore  you,  Sii*,'  said  I,  'but  don't  let's  lose  time  in  cere- 
mony ;  and  ibesides,  you  know  the  navigation  better  than 
I  do,  for  I  never  wap  here  afore.'  And  then  he  went  on 
first. 

"  As  I  mounted  the  stairs,  I  heerd  guide-friend  say  agin 
to  the  other  man  in  plain  clothes, 'Didn't  I  tell  you  he 
Avas  a  fool?'  —  'Madman,  I  should  think,'  said  the  other. 
Presently  a  door  opened,  and  I  was  showed  into  a  room 
where  member,  who  was  nothin'  but  a  common-sized  man 
arter  all,  was  standin*  by  the  fire,  and  three  or  four  young 
gentlemen  in  plain  clothes  was  a-writin'  at  a  table,  as  hard 
as  they  could  lay  pen  to  paper.  The  officer  that  opened 
the  door  roared  out  again, '  Mr.  Slick  !'  as  loud  as  he  could, 
and  I  raely  felt  so  dander,  I  do  believe  I  should  have 
knocked  him  down  if  lie  hadn't  a-stept  back  out  of  reach  ; 
but  member  came  forrard  very  perlite,  and  shook  me  by 
the  hand,  and  said  it  was  very  kind  of  me  to  come  at  such 
short  notice,  and  that  he  was  very  happy  to  have  the  pleas- 
ure to  see  me.     Then  he  jist  gave  a  wave  of  his  hand  and 


THE  GREAT  UNKNOWN. 


65 


pointed  to  the  door,  as  a  hviater  does  to  his  dogs,  without 
speakin',  aud  the  people  writin'  got  up  and  went  out  back- 
ward, keepin'  their  faces  to  him  and  bowin'.  Arter  they 
were  gone,  he  said,  •  Take  a  chair,  sir,  if  you  please  ;*  so  I 
took  one  for  myself  and  lifted  one  for  him,  sayin',  it  was  as 
cheap  to  sit  as  to  stand,  and  every  bit  and  grain  as  easy  too ; 
but  he  said  he  preferred  stand  in',  and  kinder  sorter  looked 
at  me,  as  much  as  to  say,  he  was  too  good  or  too  proud  for 
that ;  so  there  he  stood,  his  elbow  on  the  mantelpiece  and  his 
head  restin'  on  his  hand.  Well,  my  bristles  began  to  stand 
right  up,  like  a  dog's  back ;  I  did  n't  like  the  talk  of  the 
guide-friend  he  sent  for  me  ;  I  did  n't  like  the  way  the  offi- 
cers kept  bawlin'  out  my  name  and  snickered  in  the  entry, 
and  I  didn't  relish  the  way  I  was  sot  down  on  a  chair 
alone,  Hke  a  man  to  be  shaved  in  a  barber's  shop.  I  felt 
as  if  I  could  chew  him  right  up,  I  was  so  mad,  and  I  was 
detarmined  to  act  as  ugly  as  him,  for  my  coming  was  his 
seeking  and  not  my  own;  and,  as  there  was  i.othin'  to  be 
made  out  of  it,  and  no  trade  spiled,  I  did  n't  see  as  I  had 
any  occasion  to  put  up  with  his  nonsense  —  do  you?  for 
there  is  nothin'  I  hate  so  much  as  pride,  especially  when 
any  of  them  benighted,  insolent  foreigners  undertake  to 
show  it  to  a  free  and  enlightened  American.  So  I  jist  put 
up  my  feet  on  his  fender,  free  and  easy,  to  show  him  he 
couldn't  darnt  me  by  his  airs  and  graces,  and  then  spit 
right  atwcen  the  polished  bars  of  the  grate  on  the  red-hot 
coals  till  it  cracked  like  a  pistol.  Well,  he  jumped  a  yard 
or  so,  as  if  he  was  shot,  and  if  you  had  seen  the  tanyard 
look  he  gin  me,  it  would  have  made  you  split  a-lai'fin'. 
'  Do  n't  be  frightened,  lord,'  said  I ;  for  I  did  n't  know 
which  house  he  belonged  to,  so  I  thought  I'd  give  the 


:y'rz7::z 


66 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


I  ! 


title,  as  we  call  every  stranger  citizen  kurnel — 'Lord,' 
said  I,  '  I  won't  hit  you ;  I  could  spit  thro'  a  keyhole  and 
not  wet  the  wards ;  but  as  you  stand,  I  believe  I  will,  too, 
for  talk  atween  two  do  n't  come  kinder  nateral,  unless  both 
sit  or  both  stand ;  and  now,*  says  I,  *  as  time  presses,  what 
may  your  business  be  with  me,  lord  V  Well,  he  stood  back 
two  or  three  feet,  as  if  he  was  afeerd  I  would  touch  him, 
and  then  he  entered  into  a  long  palaver  about  the  colonies, 
and  asked  me  if  the  people  was  contented  with  the  govern- 
ment. 'Mr.  Stranger  Lord,*  said  I,  'they  are  not,  and 
that 's  a  fact.* 

"  He  brightened  up  when  he  heerd  that ;  he  seemeu  as 
if  it  pleased  him,  as  if  he  would  raither  hear  that,  than  that 
they  were  satisfied.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  '  A  nod  is  as  good 
as  a  wink  to  a  blind  horse.  I  see  what  you  be ;  you  are 
an  agitator,  and  want  grievances  to  work  on  ;  but  you  got 
the  wrong  sow  by  the  ear  this  time,  anyhow.* — 'Ah,'  said 
he,  '  your  testimony  is  valuable,  Mr.  Slick,  for  you  are  an 
impartial  man,  and  have  had  great  opportunities  of  know- 
ing the  condition  of  the  people.  Do  you  attribute  this  dis- 
content to  the  government  that  has  prevailed  there  since 
the  American  Revolution,  or  to  causes  over  which  we  have 
no  control?'  —  'To  the  government,*  said  I,  'some  part, 
and  some  part  to  other  causes,  but  to  none  over  which  you 
have  no  control.' — 'Precisely,'  said  he;  'that  is  exactly 
my  view  of  it.  Will  you  allow  me,'  said  he  (a-tryin*  to 
lead  me  on  by  doin'  the  civil),  '  to  offer  you  some  refresh- 
ment, sir;  I  ought  to  apologize  to  you  for  not  having 
offered  it  before.  Have  you  lunched  yet?'  — ' Thank  you, 
lord,*  said  I,  '  I  have  dined,  and  harn*t  no  occasion  for 
nothin'.*  — '  Then  what  remedies  do  you  propose  V  said  he ;., 


THE   GBEAT   UNKNOWN. 


67 


♦  how  would  a  union  do  V — '  Cure  all  evils/  said  I ;  "  you 
have  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head ;  it'b  exactly  the  right 
niedecine.'  —  'How  singular,' said  ho;  and -he  rubbed  his 
hands,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room  several  times, 
lookin'  very  pleased;  and  I  thought  I  heerd  him  say, 
'What  will  the  duke  say  to  this?  You  have  heerd,  no 
doubt,'  said  he,  *  of  responsible  government ;  pray  what  is 
your  opinion  of  that?'  —  'It  is  not  only  a  good  govern- 
ment,' said  I,  '  but  no  country  can  be  either  happy  or  con- 
tented without  it.  It  is  absolutely  indispensable ;  you  will 
lose  the  colonies  without  you  introduce  it.* — 'Mr.  Slick,' 
said  he,  '  I  have  heerd  much  of  your  sagacity  from  others, 
and  your  conversation  ful'i /  confirms  the  high  opinion  I  had 
formed  of  you.  I  am  delighted  to  have  the  pleasure  of  ma- 
king your  acquaintance.  When  do  you  leave  town  V  (Eng- 
lish folks  always  begins  that  way,  afore  they  ax  you  to  take 
pot-luck  with  them.)  —  'In  tiie  mornin',  bright,  and  airly,' 
said  I;  'have  you  any  commands  that  way?'  —  'No, 
thank  you,'  said  he ;  '  but  would  you  have  any  objections 
to  my  ordering  up  those  gentlemen  you  saw  here  jist  now, 
to  hear  tjiis  very  gratifying  confirmation  of  my  opinions  ?'-— 
'Not  the  least  in  the  world,'  said  I;  'I  don't  care  if'all 
London  hears  it.'  So  he  rang  the  bell,  and  who  should 
answer  but  the  self-same  officer  that  showed  me  in. 

"  '  Tell  those  gentlemen,'  said  lord,  *  that  I  desire  their 
presence  immediately;  and  here,  you  feller,  don't  let  me 
hear  any  more  laughing  out  there  :  do  n't  you  know  I  nev- 
er permit  any  one  to  laugh  in  my  house ;'  and  he  looked 
as  wicked  as  a  meat-axe  at  him.  He  said  nothin',  but  bowed 
down  a'most  to  the  carpet,  like  a  Chinese  tea-marchant,  and 
backed  out  wrong  eend  foremost      •  Oh,  dear,  dear,'  said  I 


'V-mm 


G8 


SAM   SUCK'S  -SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


to  myself,  '  what  a  fool  I  be  /  I  might  have  known  them 
was  sarvants,  if  I  had  n't  a-been  a  born  idiot,  and  that  rich 
parliament-men  could  aflFord  uniform  for  'em,  if  they  liked  j 
but  we  must  live  and  I'arn,  and  everything  must  have  a 
beginnin*,  1  do  suppose.'  While  the  sarvant  was  gone, 
says  the  entire  stranger,  '  Mr.  Slick,  the  party  I  belong  to 
is  a  small  but  very  influential  one.  It  holds  the  balance 
between  the  other  two.  It  occupies  the  centre,  and  keeps 
the  others  at  equal  distance,  whose  weights  retain  us  in  our 
place.  By  this  means,  whichever  way  we  incline,  we  turn 
the  scale.  Your  information,  therefore,  is  all-important.' — 
*  Exactly,'  says  I,  *  if  you  can  only  manage  to  keep  'em  jist 
so,  and  no  farther,  it  will  Avork  beautiful ;  but  if  they  pull 
apart  ever  so  little,  whap  you  come  to  the  ground,  like  a 
feller  atween  two  stools,  and  stand  a  chance  to  break  your 
neck,  and  I  hope  to  Heavens  you  may  not  hurt  yourself,  if 
you  do  fall.'  He  looked  as  striped  as  a  rainbow  at  that ; 
but  he  brightened  up  at  the  close,  with  a  look  as  much  as 
to  say,  *  You  Yankees  put  your  words  very  far  apart,  very 
ffti,  indeed ;  it  makes  things  sound  odd-like.' 

"  When  the  gentlemen  came  in,  lord  said,  '  Mr.  Slick 
fully  confirms  my  views.  He  admits  the  discontent  in  the 
Colonies,  much  of  which  he  attributes  to  tory  misgovern- 
ment;  he  approves  of  the  union,  and  says  nothing  will 
calm  the  country  but  responsible  government.' — '  I  do,'  said 
I  ,•  *  and,  by  your  leave,  I  will  explain  what  I  mean.* — 
'  Do,'  said  he  ;  '  but,  pray  be  seated  ;  allow  me  to  give  you 
a  chair;'  and  we  all  sot  down,  and  he  among  the  rest.  He 
forgot  his  pride  that  time.  How  strange  it  i«,  squire,  no 
man  is  so  haughty  and  overbearin'  as  a  democrat  or  radical ; 
and  they  do  tell  me  some  even  of  the  liberal  lords  beat  all 


M 


/ 


/' 


THE  GREAT   UNKNOWN. 


G9 


natnr'  for  pride,  actilly  the  liigliest  in  the  instep  of  any  of 
their  order.  That  comes  of  pretence  now  ;  a  man  that  stoops 
lotvcr  nor  he  ought  in  soirie  things,  is  plaguy  apt  to  straighten 
himself  over  the  perpendicular  in  others,  to  make  np  for  it 
again.  '  Now,'  says  lord,  '  I  wish  you  to  hear  this  man's* 
(•  gentleman's,'  says  he,  a-catchin'  himself  as  quick  as  wink) 
*  this  gentleman's  opinion  yourselves.  It  is  very  satisfac- 
tory to  have  such  good  authority  in  our  favor.'— •Discon- 
tent,' says  I,  *  prevails  to  an  alarmin'  extent.  It  exists 
everywhere'  ('I'll  move  to  have  this  feller  examined  before 
a  committee,'  said  he,  a-whisperin'  to  my  guide-friend ;  *  the 
scoundrel  is  quite  a  god-send  to  us')  —  *it  pervades  all 
classes,'  says  I.  ' Good  Heavens !*  said  he, ' I  wasn't  pie- 
pared  to  hear  such  a  fearful  account ;  but  it 's  very  satis- 
factory, very  satisfactory,  indeed.  Go  on,  sir,  I  am  quite 
delighted.' — 'Paradise  wasn't  good  enough  for  some  folks,' 
says  I:  *how  can  the  colonies  be?  Them  critturs  there 
are  not  satisfied  with  the  dispensations  of  Providence;  how 
can  you  expect  them  to  be  so  with  the  government.  They 
would  like  to  have  a  gov- nment  to  cost  nothin',  to  have 
their  bread  grow'd  ready  baked,  to  be  paid  for  eatin'  it,  and 
be  fed  with  a  silver  spoon.  Union,'  says  I,  '  that  you  in- 
quired about,  is  most  desirable,  for  it  would  heal  all  differ- 
ences ;  but  not  a  union  of  the  provinces,  for  that  would 
only  open  new  sources  of  strife,  and  eend  in  your  losin'  'em 
body  and  breeches,  but  a  responsible  govei-nment,'  says  I, 
'  is  indispensable.'  Jist  thin  I  took  a  squint  out  of  the  cor- 
ner of  my  eye,  and  I  see  he  began  to  smell  a  rat,  and  to 
look  all  adrift ;  so  on  I  went,  knee  deep,  and  a  foot  deeper, 
a-pokin'  it  into  him  like  fun.  *Men  who  rebel,'  says  I, 
'and  commit  murder  and  arson,  ought  to  be  held  responsible 


70 


bAM   CLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


for  it,  or  you  might  as  well  be  without  any  law  at  all,  un- 
less you  like  Lynch  law  best.  Wherever  you  see  loyalty, 
encourage  it;  and  disloyalty,  discourage  it.  Whatever 
changes  is  right,  make  them,  and  then  tell  them,  now, 
that's  the  form  that's  settled;  if  you  don't  like  it,  leave 
the  colonies,  and  go  where  you  can  find  things  more  to 
your  mind  ;  but  if  you  do  stay  there  and  rebel,  you  will  be 
banged,  as  sure  as  you  are  born.  You  shall  have  repprn- 
sibility,  but  it  shall  re  the  responsibility/  of  crime  to  late,  md 
j)f  offenders  to  justice^ 

"  Heavens  and  airtb  !  if  you  had  a-only  seed  stranger 
lord,  or  whatever  he  was,  how  he  looked,  it  would  have 
done  you  good.  It  was  as  grand  as  a  play.  Oh,  he  was  as 
mad  as  a  hatter,  and  the  madder  because  he  couldn't  help 
himself  nohow  he  could  fix  it.  He  actilly  looked  as  small 
as  the  little  eend  of  nothin'  whittled  down.  He  was  so 
bungfungered  he  couldn't  speak,  and  t'other  fellers  looked 
as  if  they  were  afeerd  of  their  lives  to  speak  either.  They 
seemed,  them  critturs,  as  if  they  darsn't  call  their  souls 
their  own,  he  kept  them  in  such  awe.  Oh,  dear,  what  a 
bam  it  is  for  such  men  to  talk  liberal,  when  they  actilly 
don't  believe  that  they  are  made  of  the  same  clay  as  other 
folks.  At  last,  things  began  to  look  rather  serious  for  a 
joke ;  so,  says  I,  risin'  up  and  takin'  my  hat,  *  I  believe  I 
must  be  a-movin',  lord,'  says  I ;  '  and  if  I  do  n't  sail,  as  I 
some  expect,  I  shall  be  back  next  week ;  «iiid,  if  you  want 
to  see  further  into  matters,  jist  send  fo:  me,  and  I  will 
come  with  pleasure;  or  if  you  want  to  examine  me  before 
that  committee,  tip  the  scoundrel  a  subpener,  and  he'll  tes- 
tify through  a  three-inch  plank  for  you.  Do  you  take?' 
(It  made  his  teeth  grit,  that,  like  two  millstones;  he  grinned 


THE  GREAT   UNKNOWN. 


71 


like  a  fox-trap  :  fact,  I  assure  you.)  '  Yes,'  says  I, '  send 
for  me,  and  I'll  come;  for  you  and  I,  I  see,  agree  in  opin- 
ion about  them  colonies  'zactly.  Indeed,  you  are  the  only 
man  I've  met  since  I  came  here  that  talks  a  word  of  sense 
about  them.     Good-day.'     And  I  turned  and  walked  out, 

guide  and  his  companions  follerin'  me.     *  What  a  d d 

hoax,'  said  guide,  a-whisperin'  to  the  other.  '  That  feller 
is  no  fool,  after  all ;  he  is  more  rogue  than  dunce,  that. 
He  has  given  him  a  fit  of  the  jaundice.' " — "  Do  you  know 
the  name  of  the  nobleman  ?"  said  I;  "for  I  can  not  con- 
ceive from  your  description  who  it  can  be,  for  there  are 
many  proud  lords,  and  many  wrong-headed  ones,  too." — 
"  No,"  said  the  clockmaker,  ••  I  can 't  even  give  a  guess, 
for  his  coach  carried  me  home,  and  I  was  so  full  of  the  bam 
I  played  off  on  him,  I  didn't  mind  to  look  at  the  name  of 
the  street ;  and  he  never  sent  for  me  agin,  as  you  may  cal- 
culate. I  guess  one  dose  was  enough  to  do  his  business 
for  him.  I  don't  know  nother  whether  he  was  a  senator 
or  a  representaiiue.  Indeed,  I  don't  know  any  lord  to  Eng- 
land. Some  on  'em  I  hear  brag  that  they  were  quite  inti- 
mate with  me  when  I  was  there ;  but  that 's  only  their 
boastin'  to  look  big.  No,  I  don't  know  his  name,  or 
whether  he  was  upper  or  under-crust ;  but  when  I  tell 
the  story  I  call  him  the — Great  Unknown." 


r 


72 


SAM  SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


CHArTER   VI. 


SNUBBING    A    SNOB. 


<    I 


On  our  arrival  at  the,  inn  at  Windsor  we  were  shown  into 
a  spacious  apartment,  in  some  retspects  answering  in  ap- 
pearance and  use  to  an  English  coffee-room.  At  the  upper 
end,  near  the  window,  sat  a  stranger,  looking  at  rather  than 
reading  a  newspaper. 

"  Look  there,  now,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  in  an  undertone, 
"jist  look  there,  now,  fox  goodness  gracious  sake!  Did 
you  ever  see  the  beat  of  that?  That  is  a  Britisher;  I 
know  him  by  the  everlastin'  scorny  air  he  wears  —  for 
them  benighted  English  think  no  one  can  see  in  the  d^rk 
but  tlij^mselves.  He  is  what  they  call  a  sno^,  that,  and  a 
full-fed  one,  too ;  for  w!;cn  nuts  grow  ripe,  hogs  grow  fat. 
He  is  a-doin'  a  bit  of  Paris,  that  man,  to  astonish  the  weak 
narves  of  the  ixativcs  wit)i.  He  has  been  across  the  chan- 
nel, you  see ;  and  he  has  got  a  French  barber  to  make  him 
look  a  bigger  fool  than  he  was  afore  he  left  home.  Look 
at  his  hair,  divided  like  on  the  top  of  his  head,  combed 
down  straight  over  each  ear,  and  fallin'  full  and  curly  on 
the  cape  of  his  coat ;  his  mustachios  squared  out  at  each 
eend  like  the  brush  of  a  weasel's  tail,  and  that  little  tuft  of 
liair  a-hangin'  from  his  onder  lip,  like  a  turkey-cock's 
beard.  Ain't  he  enough  to  charm  the  heart  of  a  kitchen 
broomstick,  that's  all  ?  He  looks  for  all  the  world  like  one 
of  them  ancient  heads  in  the  old  pictures  at  the  Jews'  shops 


».v 


SNUBBING   A    SNOB. 


78 


to  London.  Then  see  that  chalky,  white,  blench-cl  hand 
he  is  passin' leisurely  over  his  mouth  to  show  the  flash  rings 
on  his  fingers ;  and  how  slow  he  passes  his  eye  from  the 
paper  over  the  room,  to  meditate,  knowin'  like,  as  if  he 
could  880  what's  what,  and  take  it  all  in  at  a  draft.  That 
goney  is  half  puppy,  half  philosopher,  I  expect.  How  I 
would  like  to  walk  into  him!  It's  such  fun  to  'Snub  a 
Snob,'  ain't  it?  and  to  knock  the  rust  off  of  him!  Oh, 
dear !  I  suppose  we  shall  get  some  rael  travellers,  at  last, 
that  do  know  somethin',  for  the  dirt  always  goes  before  the 
broom.  Jist  so  it  is  to  Florida :  a  horse  won't  live  there 
on  a  new  farm,  so  they  have  to  use  asses  till  the  pasture 
gets  old  and  good,  and  the  feed  sweet.  And  I  suppose, 
now  we  have  got  steam  and  good  inns,  these  asses  of  trav- 
ellers will  get  a  walkin'-ticket,  and  men  of  sense  will  take 
their  place.  I  must  say,  if  he  only  had  a  good  strong  horse 
sense,  I  'd  like  to  show  him  how  to  tell  a  woodchuck  from 
a  skunk  ;  but  he  han't,  that's  clear  ;  so  I'll  jist  set  him  off 
on  a  hand-gallop,  and  then  snub  him.'*  He  accordingly 
walked  over  to  that  end  of  the  room,  and  commenced  ma- 
king his  acquaintance. 

The  conversation  that  ensued  turned  on  the  value  of  the 
North  American  colonies;  .ind,  although  a  native  and  a 
resident  of  one  of  them  myself,  I  am  free  to  admit  I  was 
not  aware  of  the  unlimited  extent  to  which  they  are  depen- 
dent on  England  for  their  manufactures,  until  my  attention 
was  drawn  to  it  by  the  lively  and  pointed  sketch  of  Mr. 
Slick.  His  utterance  was  so  rapid  that  I  fear  I  have 
missed  some  parts  of  his  illustration,  although  I  committed 
the  substance  of  it  to  paper  the  same  afternoon.  I  have 
only  to  regret  that  some  of  the  opponents  of  the  colonies 


74 


BAM   SLICK'S  BAYINUB   AND   DOINGS. 


'■I 


were  not  present  to  hear  so  triumphant  a  vindication  of 
these  neglected  and  undervalued  possessions. 

Tabular  accounts  few  men  read,  and  still  fewer  know 
how  to  appreciate.  A  personal  application  like  the  pres- 
ent, which  shows  the  practical  working  of  the  trade,  could 
it  only  be  given  in  his  own  words,  and  his  own  peculiar 
manner,  is  worth  a  hundred  of  the  dull  speechen,  and  still 
duller  articles  of  the  modern  political  economists,  for  it 
establishes  beyond  all  doubt  this  important  fact,  that  these 
provinces  are  as  much  dependent  on  England  for  every 
article  of  manufacture  used  in  them,  as  Oxford  or  Cam- 
bridge is,  and  that  a  colonial  market  is  strictly  and  literal- 
ly a  home  market. 

•'I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "you  didn't  come  by  the 
Great  Western,  did  you  V  —  "  I  did,  sir." — "  How  was  rice 
when  you  left  England,  and  cotton  ?  Have  they  riz  in  mar- 
kit?  How  was  they  quoted  when  you  quit  ?  Biddle  made 
a  great  spec'  in  cotton,  didn't  he?  I  guess  some  of  the 
Liverpoolers  will  pass  out  of  the  leetle  eend  of  the  horn 
afore  they  are  done  yet,  won't  they  V 

These  interrogatories,  and  many  others,  were  all  an- 
swered with  great  good-humor  by  the  stranger,  who  ap- 
peared much  amused  with  the  ease  and  freedom  of  the 
clockmaker's  manner.  At  last,  Mr.  Slick  put  the  never- 
failing  American  question,  "  How  do  you  like  the  coun- 
try V  To  this.  Snob  replied  in  terms  of  great  admiration 
of  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  and  the  fertility  of  the  soil ; 
but,  being  of  the  reform  school  of  politicians,  could  see 
nothing  that  did  not  require  change,  and  denounced  all 
colonies  in  general,  and  the  North  American  ones  in  par- 
ticular, as  useless  and  expensive  incumbrances ;  stated  his 


SNUBBING    A    SNOB. 


76 


conviction  that  the  dny  was  not  far  distant  when  thoy 
would  demand  their  independence ;  that  the  sooner  both 
parties  separated  the  better  it  would  be  for  them,  and  that 
true  wisdom,  as  well  as  their  mutual  interest,  dictated  im- 
mediate separation.  He  concluded  by  asking  Mr.  Slick, 
if  lie  did  not  concur  in  that  opinion? 

*'  Well,"  said  the  clockmaker,  "  I  will  give  you  my  opin- 
ion, free  gratis  for  nothin',  if  you  won't  be  oflfended."  — 
•'  Oil !  certainly  not,"  said  Snob.  •'  I  shall  not  only  not  be 
offended,  but  mo8t  happy  to  hear  your  views ;  the  object  of 
travelling  is  not  to  disseminate  one's  own  opinions,  but  to 
hear  those  of  others." — "  Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  like 
begets  like  in  a  gineral  way,  for  it's  a  law  of  natur'. 
Horses,  do  ye  see,  beget  horses,  owls  beget  owls,  and  asses 
beget  asses — it  never  fails:  and  stupid  parents  seldom  nor 
ever  have  wise  children.  Now  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  say  that 
John  Bull  is  a  cussed,  stupid,  thick-headed  old  goney  (for  I 
don't  mean  no  offence,  stranger,  but  only  to  argue  't  out 
plain,  and  nothin'  parsonal,  and  because  it  wouldn't  be 
pretty  talk,  that),  but  I  estimate  he  is  a  considerable  some, 
tho',  and  if  Blue-nose  is  a  leetle  sof*;  like  —  a  lectle  onder- 
baked  or  so,  why,  it's  no  great  wonder  consid*jrin'  the 
stock  he  comes  of.  John  Bull  has  got  a-most  a  grand 
estate  in  these  colonies,  and  a-most  an  excellent  market, 
too,  and  don't  know  nothin'  about  either  —  fact,  I  assure 
you ;  and  if  it  warn't  they  speak  better  English  here  than 
the  British  do,  you  would  fancy  yourself  at  home  a'most, 
Jbr  ex'erything  you  hear,  see,  or  touch,  here,  is  English.  Jist 
look  at  Blue-nose  and  see  what  a  woppin',  great,  big,  two- 
fisted  crittur  he  is  :  you  won't  find  such  a  made  man  jiow  here 
a'most.     He  is  more  nor  six  foot  high  in  his  stocking-feet 


?!/ 


70 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYIN(JS   AND    DOINr.S. 


I 


»S>     ^' 


l1 


(and  he  lins  got  'em  to  put  on,  too,  whicli  is  more  nor  half  the 
Britisli  have),  as  strong  as  a  horse,  and  as  supple  as  an  eel. 
Well,  when  he  is  born,  he  isn't  much  bigger  than  a  kitten ; 
a  squallin',  squcelin',  kickcn,  ongainly  little  whelp  as  you 
over  sec  a'most.  Nom-,  what  is  the  first  thing  they  do  with 
him  ]  Why,  they  wash  the  young  screetch-owl  in  an  Eng- 
lish bowl ;  wrap  him  up  in  English  flannel,  and  fasten  it 
with  English  pins;  and  th(Mi  dress  him  in  an  English  frock, 
with  an  English  cap  trimmed  with  English  lace.  If  the 
crittur  is  sick,  they  give  him  English  physic  with  an  Eng- 
lish spoon ;  and  the  very  first  word  he  I'arns  to  speak,  is 
*  English.'  As  soon  as  he  begins  to  use  his  trotters,  and 
run  about,  he  has  an  English  hat,  shirt  of  English  linen, 
coat  of  English  cloth,  and  shoes  of  English  leather.  Arter 
that  they  send  him  to  school,  an'  he  writes  with  an  English 
pen,  made  from  an  English  quill  by  an  English  knife,  uses 
English  ink  out  of  an  English  inkstand,  and  paper  made  in 
your  country,  and  ruled  \ni\\  an  English  pencil.  He  spells 
out  of  an  English  dictionary,  and  reads  out  of  an  English 
book.  He  has  hardly  learned  what  Ampersand  means,  afore 
tliey  give  him  a  horse,  such  as  it  is,  and  he  puts  an  English 
bridle  into  his  mouth,  and  an  English  saddle  on  his  back, 
and  whips  the  nasty,  spavined,  broken- winded  brute,  with 
an  English  whip ;  and  when  he  stumbles,  and  throws  him 
off,  he  swears  a  bushel  of  horrid  English  oaths  at  him.  He 
trims  the  great,  shaggy,  hairy  beast  with  English  scissors ; 
combs  his  nasty  thick  mane  with  an  English  comb,  and 
curries  his  dirty  hide  with  an  English  currycomb ;  and  then 
ties  him  up  in  his  stall  with  an  English  halter.  Then  comes 
sportin';  and,  to  give  the  crittur  his  duo,  he  ain't  a  bad  shot 
uother,  seein'  that  he  is  fond  of  fowlin',  or  troutin',  or  any- 


SNUBBING    A    SNOB. 


<  t 


tiiiiig  but  work.  Gunniu'  is  Lis  deliglit ;  and  a  wild  duvk, 
;i  moose,  or  a  carriboo,  when  they  see  him  a-comin'  to  par- 
stcute  them,  know  it's  gone  goose  with  them.  But  where 
does  liis  gun  come  from  ?  and  liis  powder?  and  his  shot? 
and  his  flask?  and  his  belt  ?  why,  clean  away  from  England. 
Even  his  Hint  comes  from  there,  for  there  ain't  a  flintstone 
ill  all  Nova  rScotia ;  and  if  there  was,  the  crittnr  couldn't 
cut  it  into  shape  so  as  to  be  any  use.  He  lian't  the  tools; 
and  if  he  had,  he  don't  know  how.  That's  the  reason,  I 
suppose,  any  one  a'most  can  'fix  his  flint  for  liim.'  It's 
more  nateral  this  should  be  the  case  in  gunnin'  than  in  fish- 
in'  ;  but  even  here  the  chap  can't  help  himself.  Tho'  the 
country  is  covered  with  wood,  he  iniports  his  rod,  his  net, 
his  line,  his  lejids,  and  even  his  flies.  He  does,  upon  my 
soul !  altho'  the  forest  is  filled  with  flies  big  enough,  and 
strong  enough,  to  bite  thro'  a  boot.  As  soon  as  his  beard 
comes  (and  sometimes  afore,  for  I  have  known  boys  actilly 
hhiivii/or  a  beard),  why,  he  goes  and  gets  a  British  glass  to 
admire  his  young  mug  in  ;  he  lathers  his  chin  with  an  Eng- 
Thsh  brush  and  English  soap,  a-lookin'  as  big  as  all  out  doors, 
and  mows  away  at  it  with  an  English  razor,  sharpened  on 
a  British  hone,  and  stropped  on  a  British  strop ;  then  he 
puts  on  an  English  collar,  and  ties  it  up  with  an  English 
stock,  and  I  hope  I  ma}'  be  skinned  if  he  don't  call  him- 
self an  EnglisliMrtw,  A  chip  of  the  old  block  he  is,  too; 
and  you\)g  Blue-nose  is  as  like  old  John  as  two  peas,  the 
same  proud,  consaited,  self-sufiicient,  know-nothin'  crittur; 
a  regular  gag,  that 's  a  fact." 

•'  Why,  really,  sir,"  said  Snob,  who  was  much  and  very 
justly  offended  at  this  indecent  language,  "I  don't  under- 
stand  " — "Oh!    but  you  will  understand,"  said    Mr 


i' 


f 


78 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


'I 


■I, 


.  *l-! 


■\ 


Slick,  "  if  you  only  hear  nie  out.  In  a  gineral  way,  'bout 
this  time,  he  begins  to  feel  raither  pitikilar,  and  he  pays  a 
visit  to  the  '  'tropolis,'  to  see  the  world,  for  a  man  that  han't 
been  to  the  capitol  has  seed  nothin' ;  so,  instead  of  taking 
a  continental  triP;  as  Eritialr  boys  do,  he  takes  a  coastin' 
trip  in  his  father's  shollop  to  that  are  great  city  of  great 
men,  Halifax.  He  fills  his  first  office  in  this  life,  super- 
cargo of  two  or  three  jags  of  firewood,  a  dozen  birch- 
brooms,  a  basket  of  bad  eggs,  a  sick  calf,  and  a  measly 
pig;  and,  when  he  has  squandered  all  the  proceeds  of  the 
plunder  a-l'arnin'  to  drink  and  swear  like  a  man,  he  comes 
to  tell  of  the  wonderful  sights  he  has  seed,  and  talk  reform 
politics.  But,  look  to  his  vessel,  ropes,  sails,  blocks,  an- 
chor, bolts,  copper,  iron,  compass,  and  all  the  other  fixin's 
—  where  db  they  come  from?  Why,  from  where  every 
part  of  the  vessel  except  the  sappy,  buggy,  dry-rotted 
wood  she  is  built  with  comes  from  —  from  England.  Look 
at  the  old  battered  watch  he  is  rigged  out  with,  the  case 
half  lead,  half  pewter,  that  he  swapped  his  wood  for  on  the 
wharf  with  a  woman  with  a  painted  face  and  dirty  stock- 
ings, who  cheated  him  by  calling  him  '  captain,*  and 
*  squire,'  and  'your  honor;'  where  did  that  watch,  and  that 
old  trull  come  from  ?  from  England,  like  the  rest. 

'*  The  next  thing  the  sinner  looks  out  for  is  a  gall,  for 
few  created  critturs  go  a-gallin'  so  early  as  he  does.  He 
is  hardly  cleverly  growed  up  and  cut  his  mother's  apron- 
string  afore  he  is  spliced.  He  never  waits  till  he  has  a 
place  to  put  his  wife  in,  or  anything  to  support  her  with ; 
he  trusts  luck  for  that,  catches  the  bird  first,  and  then 
makes  the  cage.  Well,  see  how  he  goes  about  that;  he 
cuts  down  the  trees  to  build  it  with  an  axe  of  English  iron, 


1 


SNUBBING   A   SNOB. 


79 


saws  it  with  an  English  saw,  planes  it  with  an  English 
plane,  puts  it  together  with  English  nails,  driven  by  an 
English  hammer,  and  then  paints  it  with  English  paint  and 
an  Kncrlish  brush.  The  sayhcs  lias  Eiigiiwh  glass,  kept  in 
by  English  putty  ;  the  doors  are  hung  upon  English  hinges, 
and  secured  by  English  locks  (against  British  thieves  the', 
for  they  forgot  to  reform  them  afore  they  shipped  them 
out) ;  the  floor  is  covered  with  imported  carpets,  the  win- 
dows with  imported  curtains,  and  the  fire  made  in  imported 
stoves,  and  fixed  with  imported  tongs  and  shovels.  When 
he  gives  a  house-warmin'  to  his  friends — for  he  is  rather 
amorous  of  a  frolic — the  plates,  knives,  and  forks,  decan- 
ters, and  glasses,  and  everything  else  if  English  ;  and,  when 
the  boys  and  galls  go  for  to  dance,  hear  the  music,  that's  all. 
Pretty  music  it  is,  too,  afore  tunes  came  in  fashion,  I  giless ; 
but  hear  it.  English  fifes,  English  flutes,  English  drums, 
English  pianos,  and  English  fiddles  (not  to  mention  Scotch 
ones,  of  which  mum  is  the  word).  But  what's  the  use  of 
talkin'.  If  I  was  to  tell  you  what  they  have  got  that  they 
have  to  send  to  Britain  for,  it  would  take  a  month ;  but  I  '11 
tell  you  what  don't  come  :  wood,  water,  tone,  and  airth,  is 
all  that  they  can  call  their  own,  that  doesn't  come  from 
England,  unless  it  be  a  few  housand  wooden  clocks  I  in-, 
troduced  here,  to  let  'em  know  hen  grog  time  of  day  comes. 
Well,  the  next  house  Blue-no.se  gets  into  is  a  small  one, 
where  his  nose  and  his  toes  touches  the  roof.  You'd  think 
he  was  done  with  England  now,  and  that  he  could  take 
nothin'  out  of  the  world  with  him,  no  more  than  he  brought 
into  it ;  but  he  ain't  finished  yet.  The  goney  wouldn't  die 
happy  if  this  was  the  case.  He  don't  like  to  be  separated 
from  English  manufactures  even  in  death,  for  he  is  so  used 


m 


80 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND  DOINGS. 


,  I 


J 


and  80  attached  to  the  Old  Country,  that  he  calls  his  own 
native  land  Nova  Scotia,  and  England  he  calls  —  what  do 
you  think  now  ?  —  why,  he  calls  it  *  home ;^  he  does,  upon  my 
soul !  No,  sir,  the  grave  don't  part  'em,  nor  death  shut  his 
pan  nother,  for,  as  soon  as  he  is  stiff,  he  is  dressed  in  an 
English  shroud,  and  screwed  down  with  English  screws 
into  his  coffin,  that  is  covered  with  English  cloth,  and  has  a 
plate  on  it  of  English  ware,  for  the  worms  to  read  his  name 
and  age  on,  if  they  have  larned  to  spell.  The  minister  claps 
on  an  English  gownd,  reads  the  English  sarvice  out  of  an 
English  book,  and  the  grave  is  filled  up  agin  with  airth 
shovelled  in  with  an  English  shovel,  while  every  man,  wo- 
man, and  child,  that  bears  his  name,  pulls  out  an  English 
handkerchief,  to  wipe  their  eyes  and  blow  their  noses  with, 
iind  buy  as  much  English  black  cloth,  crape,  and  what  not, 
as  would  freight  a  vessel  a'most ;  for,  havin'  I'arned  the 
multiplication-table  airly  in  life,  the  number  of  his  descend- 
ants would  make  you  stare,  I  know.  His  children  run  the 
same  rig  round  the  same  course,  till  they  eend  by  being 
packed  up  in  a  snug  pill-box  in  the  same  graveyard.  And? 
yet,  John  Bull  says  colonies  are  no  good.  Why,  the  man 
is  a  drivellin',  snivellin',  divelin'  idiot,  an  everlastin'  born 
fool,  that' s  a  fact." 

This  second  outbreak  was  more  than  the  good-natured 
stranger  could  endure,  and  though  amused  myself  at  the 
rhodomontade  style  of  his  argument,  I  could  not  but  par- 
ticipate in  the  annoyance  he  felt  at  these  gross  national  re- 
flections. 

"  Really,  sir,"  said    Snob,  "  this  is  too  much.     I " 

•'  I  '11  cut  it  short,  then,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  again  misunder- 
standing him ;  '•  but  it's  all  true,  sir,  for  all  tliat.     Now, 


r 


«v^ 


SNUBBING    A    SNOB. 


81 


li.)w  i.s  colonist  able  to  j^aij  for  all  this  almighty  s wad  of 
iiiaiiufactured  plniul(?r,  sceiu'  that  he  has  no  gold  nor  silver; 
why,  mainly  hy  his  tunher,  and  yet  them  onfakilized,  onder- 
hakc'd  goiieys,  the  British,  actually  want  to  tax  it  and  re- 
form out  the  trade,  so  as  to  give  a  preference  to  Baltic  tim- 
ber. '  We  do  n't  want  colony  timber,' says  they.  'Don't 
you,  tho'  V  says  Blue-nose ;  '  then  I  hope  we  may  be  tee- 
totally  extinctified  if  we  want  your  manufactures.'  What's 
the  name  of  your  great-gun  to  Canada?"  —  "Do  you  mean 
Sir  John  Colbourne,"  said  Snob.  "  No,"  replied  Mr.  Slick, 
"I  don't  mean  the  '  man-o'-war,'  I  mean  the  '  marchant- 
man.'  Oh!  I  have  it.  Pullet  Thompson.  Well,  Pullet 
will  I'arn  somethin'  to  Canada  about  timber  he  never  knew 
afore,  or  it  ain't  no  matter.  When  you  see  him,  stump 
him  ;  '  Friend  Pullet,'  says  you,  '  when  a  log  is  hewed  and 
squared  can  you  tell  the  south  side  of  it?'  and  if  he  don't 
answer  it  right  off  the  reel  (and  I  '11  go  my  death  on  it  he 
can 't),  tell  him  to  send  out  the  board  of  trade,  ay,  and  the 
board  of  words,  too,  to  Sam  Slick,  the  clockmaker,  to  go  to 
school  for  a  spell,  for  he  is  jist  the  boy  can  teach  'em  some- 
thing that  ain't  sot  down  in  the  reform  bill,  knowin'  coons 
as  they  be.  Yes,  yir,  if  ever  you  was  to  Antwarp,  you'd  see 
what  it  is  to  lose  colonies.  When  that  place  belonged  to 
Holland,  and  had  colonial  trade,  five  thousand  marchants 
used  to  meet  on  'change ;  now  the  exchange  is  left,  but  the 
marchant  is  gone.  Look  at  the  great  docks  built  there  at 
so  much  expense,  and  no  shipping  there.  Look  at  one 
man-of-war  for  a  navy  that  has  a  pennant  as  long  as  from 
to-day  to  the  middle  of  next  week,  that  can't  get  out  for 
the  Dutch  forts,  is  of  no  use  in,  and,  if  it  did  get  out,  has  no 
place  to  go  to.     Bon.'ijiarle  said  he  wanted  sliij)S.  colonies, 

4 


lli 


82 


aAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


and  commerce  ;  one  fool  makes  many  !  Every  delegate, 
patriot,  and  humbug,  that  goes  from  here  to  London,  if  he 
gets  by  accident  to  a  public  dinner  (for  folks  to  see  he  ain't 
black),  and  is  asked  for  a  toast,  rises  up,  lookin'  as  wise  as 
a  donkey,  and  says,  *  Ships,  colonies,  and  commerce  !'  till  it 
becomes  a  standin'  toast.  Bonaparte  was  a  fool,  and  didn't 
know  what  he  was  a-talkin'  about,  for  colonies  means  all 
three.  Them  that  have  colonies  will  lose  the  other  two 
along  with  them.     Yes,  John  Bull  is  a  blamed  blockhead, 

a  cust "      "  Excuse  me,"  said  the  stranger,  rising  and 

effecting  his  escape  at  last ;  "  but,  really,  sir,  your  language 
is  so  offensive,  you  must  permit  me  to  retire,"  and  he  very 
properly  left  the  room.  "Well,  I  didn't  mean  to  offend 
him  nother,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  I  vow.  There  was  no  occa- 
sion for  him  to  hop  about  as  mad  as  a  parched  pea  that 
way  —  was  there?  I  am  sorry  he  kicked  afore  he  was 
spurred,  tho',  for  I  was  only  speakin'  in  a  gineral  way  like. 
I  wish  he  had  heerd  me  out,  too,  for  I  was  only  a-breakin' 
of  the  crust  when  he  began  to  look  all  wrath  that  way.  I 
hadn't  got  rightly  into  the  subject ;  I  only  spoke  of  manu- 
factures, but  that  is  merely  one  item  ;  there  are  many  other 
political  ones  that  he  never  heerd  of,  /  know.  But  what 
can  you  expect  of  such  critturs  ?  all  they  can  do  is  to  grunt 
like  a  pig  at  corn-time.  The  way  they  do  n't  know  nothin' 
is  most  beautiful,  and  them  that  make  speeches  to  England 
about  the  colonies,  too.  There  ain't,  p'raps,  no  one  subject 
there  is  so  much  nonsense  talked  about  as  these  provinces ; 
it's  ridiculous,  it  makes  me  larf  so  it  actilly  busts  my  waist- 
coat-buttons of;  it  fairly  gives  me  a  stitch  in  the  side,  and, 
I  must  say,  I  do  like,  when  I  get  a  chance,  to  •  Snub  a 
Snob:  " 


PATRIOTiyM,  Oil   THE   TWO   bHEARS'S. 


83 


CHAPTER   VII. 


PATRIOTfSM,  OR    THE    TWO    SHEARS'S. 

As  soon  as  the  conversation  related  in  the  preceding 
chapter  had  ceased,  I  committed  the  heads  of  it  to  paper, 
and  as  I  intended  tc  proceed  on  the  following  day  to  New 
Brunswick,  I  retired  early,  in  order  to  secure  a  good  night's 
rest.  In  this  expectation,  however,  I  was  disappointed. 
The  bar,  which  adjoined  my  bedroom,  now  began  to  fill 
with  strangers,  travelling  to  and  from  the  capital,  and  the 
thin  wooden  partition  that  separated  us  was  insufficient  to 
exclude  the  noise  of  so  many  voices.  After  awhile  the 
confusion  gradually  subsided,  by  the  greater  part  of  the 
persons  withdrawing  to  their  several  apartments,  and  the 
conversation  assumed  a  more  distinct  and  intelligible  shape. 
The  topic  appeared  to  be  the  delegation  sent  from  Canada 
on  the  subject  of  alleged  grievances ;  and  I  was  glad  to 
find,  that,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  noisy,  illiterate 
persons,  every  individual  deplored  the  agitation  that  had 
recently  affected  the  colonies,  and  denounced  the  system 
of  "  grievance  mongering"  that  had  prevailed  of  late  years, 
as  having  a  tendency  to  retard  the  real  improvement  of  the 
country,  and  discourage  tlie  loyal  and  respectable  portion 
of  the  inhabitants. 

"  Jist  so,"  said  a  person,  whose  voice  I  at  once  recog- 
nised as  that  of  Mr.  Slick's  —  "jist  so,  stranger;  you  are 
jist  about  half  right,  and  there  is  no  two  ways  about  it. 


iir 


i! 


U   i 


I' 


84 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


Delegations  are  consideiaV)le  nice  jobs  for  them  who  want 
a  ride  across  the  Atlantic  at  the  public  expense,  for  noth- 
in' ;  for  demagogues,  place-hunters,  and  humbugs,  that  want 
to  make  the  unfives  stare  when  they  get  back,  by  telling 
how  big  they  talked,  and  what  gi*eat  things  they  did,  to  the 
great  people  and  to  the  big-wigs  to  home.  /  did  thio ;  I 
did  that;  and  so  on.  That's  what  Mackenzie  did,  wiien  he 
told  his  folks  to  Canada,  when  he  returned  from  delegatin', 
that  he  seed  the  king,  who  was  very  civil  to  him,  and  took 
a  glass  of  grog  with  him  ;  and  told  him  he  was  sorry  he 
couldn't  ask  him  to  dine  with  him  that  day,  for  the  queen 
was  very  busy,  as  it  was  whitewashin'  day  to  the  palace, 
and  they  was  all  in  hubbub.  '  For,  Mac,'  said  he  (smiling 
like  a  lael  salt-water  sailor), '  these  leetle  things,  you  know, 
must  be  done  for  kings  as  well  as  subjects,  and  women  is 
women,  whether  their  petticoats  are  made  of  silk  or  cotton, 
and  the  dear  critturs  will  have  their  own  way,  eh,  Mac? 
Our  washin'  we  put  out,  but  house-cleanin'  must  be  done 
in  the  hous>.  or  not  done  at  all ;  there  is  no  two  ways  about 
it :  you  understand  me,  Mac  1  Tell  my  people,  when  you 
return,  if  my  governors  don't  behave  better,  d — n  'em  !  I'll 
hang  one  or  two  of  them  as  an  example !  Good-by,  Mac' 
And  some  on  'em  was  fools  enough  to  believe  the  goney 
and  his  everlastin'  lockrums,  that's  a  fact,  ^es,  delega- 
tions play  the  very  old  Nick  with  a  country.  They  hurt 
its  credit,  stop  emigration,  reform  out  decent  folks,  and  in- 
jure its  trade.  People  are  afeerd  of  a  country  where  there 
is  agitation,  for  agitation  is  what  the  doctors  call  in  cholera 
the  premonitory  symptom  ;  a  sign  that  if  active  measures 
are  not  taken,  rebellion  ain't  far  off.  But  you  colony  chaps 
are  gulled  from  year's  eend  to  year's  eend,  hang  me  if  you 


PATRIOTISM,    Oil   THE   TWO    SHEARS'S. 


85 


ain't.  You  are  a  nation  siglit  too  well  oflf,  so  you  be;  and 
ifvou  was  taxed  like  us  Yaukees,  or  the  ignorant  British, 
iiud  had  to  move  round  and  mind  your  stops,  so  as  to  make 
t\v(»  ecnds  cleverly  meet  together  when  the  year  is  out,  it 
wuuld  be  better  for  you,  I  guess.  One  half  of  you  don't 
know  what  you  arc  talkin'  about ;  and  t'  other  half  are  goin' 
the  vvhole  figur'  for  patriotism. 

"  Lord,  I  shall  never  forget  a  rise  I  once  took  out  of  an 
old  kurnel  to  Baugor,  the  Honorable  Uonrad  Corncob.  He 
rose  to  be  a  gincral  arterward,  but  then  he  was  only  a  kur- 
nel, and  it's  very  odd,  but  you  can  tell  a  kurnel  as  far  as 
you  can  see  him.  They  're  all  got  a  kind  of  schoolmaster 
look ;  as  much  as  to  say,  '  I  am  bothered  to  death  with  my 
boys,  and  will  wallop  the  first  one  I  catch  like  blazes,  that 
comes  with  his  "  Please,  sir,  may  I  go  out,"  "  Master,  here's 
Pete  a-scroudgein," '  and  so  on.  It's  all  wrote  as  plain  in 
their  face  as  a  handbill.  Well,  he  was  ravin'  about  the  dis- 
puted territory,  a-blowin'  up  Mr.  Harvey,  the  governor  of 
New  Brunswick,  sky-high,  and  sayin'  what  he  would  do 
agin  the  Britishers,  and,  at  last,  he  says,  a-turnin'  to  me, 
and  a-rollin'  up  his  eyes  like  a  duck  in  thunder,  '  Mr.  Slick,' 
says  he,  "  dulce  est  pro  patria  mori."  '  — '  What  in  natur'  is 
that  ]'  says  I,  '  gineral,  for  I  've  forgot  what  little  Latin  min- 
ister I'arned  me  to  night-school ;  and,  in  fact,  I  never  was 
any  great  shakes  at  it,  that's  a  fact.'  —  'Why,'  says  he, 
'  "  it's  a  sweet  thing  to  die  for  one's  country."  '  — '  Well,  I 
don't  know,'  says  I,  'what  you  may  think,  but,  somehow 
or  another,  I  kinder  think  it's  a  plaguy  sight  sweeter  thing 
to  live  by  one's  country;  and,  besides,'  says  I,  'I  don't 
translate  that  are  Latin  line  that  way,  at  all.' — 'Possible]' 
says  he  :  'I  don't  see  no  other  meanin'  to  it  at  all.' — '  I  do, 


SQ 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINCJS    AND    DOINGS. 


then,'  says  I,  'and  this  is  the  way  I  turn  it  into  English: 
♦'  rnori,"  the  more  I  get,  "  pro  patria,"  by  the  country, 
•' dulce  est,"  the  sweeter  it  is.  And  that's  what  I  call 
patriotism  in  these  days.'  —  Says  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,'  and  he 
looked  all  round  to  see  nobody  was  within  hearin',  and 
then  puttin'  his  fingers  on  his  nose,  says  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,  I 
see  you  are  up  to  snufF,  and  that  it  ain't  easy  to  pull  the 
wool  over  your  eyes ;  but  atween  you  and  me  and  the  post, 
it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  thing  to  be  on  full  pay  as  a  gineral  for 
the  winter  months,  when  a  body  can 't  do  no  business  in  the 
timber  line  to  home,  would  it  ?  and  my  two  sons  on  the 
staff,  one  on  'em  with  the  rank  of  captai  and  the  other  of 
major ;  do  you  take  V — '  To  be  sure  I  do,'  says  I.  '  I  take 
well  enough  ;  and,  if  them  Maine  folks  will  be  such  al- 
mighty "  maniacs,"  as  I  call  'em,  as  to  send  out  troops  to 
the  Brunswick  line,  you  'd  be  a  fool  if  you  didn't  make  your 
ned  out  o'  them  as  well  as  anybody  else,  that's  a  fact.' — 
'  But,  Mr.  Slick,'  said  he,  '  mum  is  the  word,  you  know ; 
keep  dark  about  it,  and  I  '11  show  you  how  to  put  the  leak 
into  folks;'  and,  then,  turnin'  round  and  puttin'  himself  in 
the  fix  of  Webster,  Clay,  and  some  o'  them  great  guns,  he 
made  as  if  he  was  addressin'  of  an  assembly  of  citizens. 
'Now,'  said  he,  *  I  '11  show  you  I  talk  into  them  about  the 
boundary :  "  Will  you  sell  your  birthright,  my  fellow- 
citizens  ?  —  will  you  sell  your  birthright  to  the  proud  and 
insolent  British  ?  I  await  yovu'  answer.  Will  none  speak  ? 
Then  none  will  be  so  base.  Will  you  tamely  submit  to 
have  your  sacred  soil  polluted  by  benighted  foreigners  ? 
No.  Let  ]\[aine  answer  indignantly,  No;  let  Florida  echo 
it  back ;  let  the  mountains  and  valleys,  the  lakes  and  the 
rivers,  take  it  up  and  reverberate  in  thunder.  No.     No, 


PATRIOTISM,   OR   THE  TWO   SHEARS'S. 


87 


tc'llow-citizens,  let  ns  rather  rally  round  the  star-spangled 
banner  of  our  great  and  glorious  country.  Let  us,  choosing 
tl'.at  day  that  is  consecrated  to  fame  by  the  blood  and  hero- 
ism of  our  ancestors  —  the  great  day  of  independence  — 
jlaiit  our  ih\(r  on  the  ton'ifori/,  and  rampart  it  round  with 
ihe  bodies  of  our  free  and  enlightened  citizens.  '  Dulee 
<'st  pro  patria  mori.' "  '  And  then  he  bust  out  a-larfin',  and 
staggered  like  over  to  the  sophy,  and  laid  down  and  haw- 
ha^ved  like  thunder.  '  "Well,  Slick,'  said  he,  when  he  came 
to,  '  what  darned  fools  mankind  are,  to  be  so  easily  gulled 
by  tliat  are  word  "  patriotism  !"  ain't  they  ?  It  fairly  beats 
all,  don't  it?'  —  Now,  strangers,"  said  the  clockmaker, 
"that's  prct*.y  mucli  the  case  with  delegations.  As  long 
ns  them  mis.ions  are  profitable  things,  delegates  will  be  as 
plenty  and  grievances  as  thick  as  hops.  If  I  was  the  min- 
ister I  would  receive  them  folks  very  civilly,  and  attend  to 
their  business  if  they  had  any,  atid  was  recommended  by  the 
govirKnr :  but  I  never  M'ould  encourage  agitation,  and  hold 
odt  a  y^.rcmium  for  it,  by  rewardin'  agitators  themselves  with 
appoi'.itinents.  A  trade  won't  he  followed  long  that  ain't 
a  f'cfitahle  one,  thaVs  a  fact.  I'll  tell  you  a  story." — 
"Do,"  paid  the  company;  "let's  hear  your  story;"  and 
the  motion  of  the  chairs  indicated  a  closing  in  of  the  listen- 
ers round  the  speaker.  "  About  forty  years  ago,  or  there- 
abouts, I  tfiink  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  if  my  memory  sarves 
me  ri<;ht,  tncre  was  a  rebellion  to  Ireland.  Patriots  were 
;is  thick  ,",«  toads  arter  a  rain-storm  ;  they  was  found  in 
every  nirn's  path  a'most,  and  they  stirred  up  a  tempestical 
time  of  i;,  you  may  depend.  They  began  with  grievances 
and  speeeh-makin',  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  just  as  they 
did  t  'other  day  to  Canidy,  and  it  eended  the  same  way. 


«8 


SAM    SLICK'S    SAYIN(JS    ANU    DOINCIS. 


It  '.vas  put  down  niter  n  good  many  poor  dohidcd  ciittuis 
lost  tlit'ir  lives  in  the  field.  Then  fame  the  day  of  reck- 
onin',  and  thty  caught  some  o'  the  leaders  and  hanged 
them,  tho'  most  of  the  first  chopmen  cut  and  run,  as  they 
always  do  in  sucli  like  cases,  considerable  cranky.  Among 
the  rest  that  they  nabbed  was  two  brothers,  the  two  Shears'.'^. 
Well,  folks  pitied  these  two  men  a  great  deal  too  ;  they  said 
they  ailly  was  in  earnest,  and  had  no  private  eends  to  sarve, 
like  most  of  the  patriots,  but  was  led  astray  by  artful  men. 
They  said  that  nothin'  could  excuse  the  horrid  murders, 
and  blood,  and  distress,  caused  by  their  doin's  ;  but  still, 
somehow  or  another,  there  was  so  much  courage  and  darin', 
and  eloquence,  and  elevation  of  mind  like,  about  these  two 
men,  they  did  railly  grudge  the  gallus  its  due,  that  time, 
anyhow,  and  kind  o'  sorter  felt  as  if  they'd  a-been  glad  if 
they  had  got  off.  But,  no.  Nothin'  would  do.  Govern- 
ment said  a  just  severity  would  be  a  raarcy  in  the  eend,  for 
it  would  deter  men  from  follerin'  sich  a  bad  example,  and 
they  was  jist  hanged  and  beheaded.  It  excited  quite  a 
sensation  like.  People  felt  considerable  streaked  about  it ; 
pitied  'em,  mourned  'em,  and,  as  usual,  forgot  'em.  Well, 
last  summer  I  was  to  Dublin,  and,  arter  I  had  finished  my 
trade  there,  bavin'  a  little  time  on  my  hands,  I  goes  about 
to  see  the  castle,  customhouse,  college,  and  what  not  of 
curiosities  —  for  Dublin  is  worth  seein',  I  tell  you:  it  takes 
the  shine  off  of  most  cities  —  and,  at  last,  I  heard  there  was 
a  place  under  St.  ]\[iclian's  church,  where  bodies  never  de- 
cayed one  mite  or  morsel,  but  kept  as  fresh  as  the  day  they 
died,  and  as  sweet  as  a  pot  of  butter  in  an  ice-house.  So, 
thinks  I,  'That's  curous,  too;  hang  me  if  I  don't  go  and 
see  it.     I  have  heerd  tell  of  such  a  thing,  but  I  never  see 


PATRIOTISM,    Oil   THE   TWO   SHEARS'S. 


89 


flic  like  of  tliat,  and  it  must  be  worth  lookin'  at.'  So  off  I 
sot,  with  aJi  ohi  East-India  captain,  that  was  a-stayin'  there 
to  the  Shclburne  inn,  to  Stephen's  green  —  quite  a  spooney 
ohl  boy  as  you'd  see  in  a  liundred  —  and  when  I  got  to 
tlie  churcli,  I  hired  the  okl  saxton-woman,  or  wliatever  they 
call  her,  to  let  me  in.  What  does  she  do  but  lights  two 
candles;  on(!  on  'ein  she  gives  me,  and  t'other  one  she 
keeps  in  her  own  hand,  and  onlockin'  the  door,  down  we 
goes  into  the  vault.  Well,  there  warn't  any  onpleasant 
smell  in  it  at  all,  tho'  the  floor  seem  covered  with  fat  crum- 
bly black  soil  like,  that  felt  greasy  onder  foot,  and  as  far  as 
1  know,  might  a-been  human  ;  and,  railly,  as  I  am  a  livin* 
sinner,  I  hope  I  may  die  this  blessed  minit  if  the  corpses 
warn't  jist  as  nateral  as  life.  Well,  there  were  three  on 
'em  on  the  floor :  two  on  'em,  that  was  men,  had  their 
heads  off,  but  the  third  was  a  woman ;  and  the  coffins  had 
rolled  off  and  fallen  away  to  powder ;  and  they  had  noth- 
iii'  over  them  at  all,  but  there  they  laid  on  the  floor  like 
dead  dogs,  as  naked  as  when  they  was  born.  '  Well,'  says 
I  to  the  woman,  says  I,  '  if  that  don''t  beat  all,  too;  why, 
nothin'  has  decayed  about  them  men,  but  the  chords  of 
their  necks.  Their  heads  is  off;  how  strange  that  is,  ain't 
it?  what  made  their  heads  go  for  it,  and  no  other  part? 
what  on  airth  is  the  meanin'  o'  that  V  "  Here  another  gen- 
eral move  of  the  chairs  in  the  bar-room  showed  the  in- 
creasing interest  o"  the  company  in  his  narrative,  as  they 
closed  in  still  fuither,  and  contracted  their  circle.  '"Why, 
their  heads  ain't  gone,  your  honor,'  ^aid  she  (for  all  Irish 
people  say  '  your  honor'  to  you  when  there  is  anything  to 
be  got  by  it),  '  they  have  got  them  in  their  laps,  and  are 
a-holdin'  of  them  in  their  hands :  see ;'  and  she  lifted  up 

4* 


•Ki 


90 


SAM    KLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


one  of  their  heads,  and  turned  its  ghastly  face  round  toward 
me,  and  its  eyeless  socket  stared  ^lorrid  ;  while  the  mouth, 
nil  contracted,  showed  the  teeth  and  looked  wicked  ugly, 
I  tell  you,  with  an  expression  o'  pain  and  sufferin'  that  was 
dreadful  to  behold.  I  didn't  get  that  head  out  o'  my  Jicad 
one  while,  I  tell  you.  It  fairly  harnted  me;  and  I  fancied 
I  seed  it  arterward,  when  I  went  to  bed,  for  the  matter  of 
two  or  three  nights,  one  arter  the  other.  Dead  bodies  ain't 
very  pretty  things  at  no  time;  I  cr.n't  jist  say  I  am  fond 
of  them,  and  I  most  wonder,  somehow,  how  doctors  don't 
get  sick  of  them,  too.  Brother  Eldad  was  always  a-buyin' 
of  them,  jist  for  the  pleasure  of  whitlin'  of  them  with  his 
knife,  and  every  drawer  and  trunk  he  had  a'most,  had  an 
arm,  or  leg,  or  somethin'  or  another,  in  it.  I  believe,  in  my 
soul,  he  never  buried  one  agin  that  he  dug  up,  for  he  seemed 
to  owe  the  worms  a  grudge,  so  he  did ;  but,  as  I  was  a-say- 
in',  they  had  their  heads  in  their  laps.  '  Well,'  says  I  to 
the  old  woman,  says  I,  'is  th-^t  St.  Dennis?  for  he  is  the 
only  man  I  ever  heerd  tell  of  that  undertook  to  walk  off 
with  his  head  onder  his  arm  arter  that  fashion  —  who  onder 
the  sun  is  he  ?'  — '  Why,'  says  she,  '  them  two  men  are  two 
brothers:  they  was  hanged  and  beheaded  in  the  rebellion; 
they  are  "  the.  tivo  Shears's ;''  han't  they  kept  well  intirely. 
Now  give  that  cratur  next  to  your  honor,'  said  she,  *  a  prod 
with  the  foot  and  turn  him  over,  and  see  how  beautiful  the 
corpse  looks,  where  the  air  ain't  C(/nie  to  the  back.'  —  *  No,' 
says  I,  '  not  I,  indeed  ;  I  always  feels  kinder  onswoggled 
like  at  dead  bodies;  it  makes  my  flesh  crawl  all  over,  and 
I  won't  lay  foot  to  'em  for  nothin',  a'most,  for  it's  ondecent 
to  kick  'em  about  with  your  io<.t  that  way,  as  if  it  was  a 
carcass  of  pork.'  — '  Why,  they  won't  bite,  your  honor,' said 


PATRIOTISM,   OR  THE  TWO   SHEARS'S. 


91 


slie,  *  tlio'  they  do  show  their  teeth ;  and,  by  the  powers,  I 
am  not  at'eerd  of  any  man  that  ever  was,  dead  or  alive ;  so 
I'll  give  lim  a  roll  over,  if  you'd  like  to  see  the  other  side 
of  him.  He  is  as  light  as  a  baby,  he  is  so  dry.'  —  'No,' 
tuys  I,  'jist  let  him  be;  it  don't  seem  jist  altogether  right. 
Let  him  be  where  he  is.' — '"Well,  then,'  said  she,  '  obsarve, 
your  honor,  how  nateral  the  limbs  looks.  See  the  great 
toe,  how  it  forks  out,  strainin'  as  if  seekia'  for  support 
for  the  body,  when  hangin' ;  and  the  cords  of  the  legs, 
how  hard  and  crampt  they  be.  The  hands,  too,  are  con- 
vulsed, and  the  fingers  clenched  in  the  agonies  like  a  vio- 
lent death.  It's  a  beautiful  sight  intirely.  People  say 
they  arc  great  curiosities,  them,  and  that  it's  worth  goin* 
many  a  long  mile  to  see,  and  a  crown-piece  to  get  a  sight 
of  tliem.  Most  gentlemen  give  me  five  shillings  for  my 
tnmble ;  and,  once,  Lord  Argent  gave  me  a  sov — ' 

"'Well,  well,'  says  I,  a-stoppin'  of  her  gab  about  the 
pay,  for  women  in  a  gineral  way  never  'ose  sight  of  the 
main  chance  one  blessed  mlnit  —  'well,  says  I,  '"is  this 
the  reward  of  patriotism,"  to  be  hanged  and  beheaded,  and 
then  left  kicking  about  here  on  the  floor,  like  dead  rats? 
Lawful  heart!  why  don't  them  patriots  (for  some  on  'em 
are  at  the  top  of  the  pot  now)  —  why  don't  they  clap  'em 
into  a  coilin,  bury  'em  decently,  and  put  a  monument  over 
them,  and  bhow  their  pity  or  their  gratitude,  if  they  have 
any.  If  it  ain't  lit  to  make  a  fuss  about  folks  that  was 
hanged  —  and  they  actilly  d'd  de&arve  what  they  caught 
that  time — why  on  airth  han't  they  the  decency  to  inter 
'cm  privately,  and  jist  put  up  a  stone  with  their  names  on 
it,  to  show  where  they  be,  and  who  they  be  ?  It's  enough 
to  make  a  man  sick  of  patriotism  this,  I'll  he  hanged  my- 


m 


I  '^r 


92 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


self  if  it  ain't.     It  is  hard  to  say  wliicli  is  was,  to  see  pa- 
triots forgit  their  country,  or  the  country  forgitten  patriots, 
for  it  happens  both  ways.'  —  'Don't  call  it  patriotism,'  said 
the    sea-captain,    who    stood    all    the   time    a-sniflin'    and 
a-snivelin'  like  a  child  (he  did,  upon  my  soul !) ;  '  don't  dig- 
nify the  crime  o'  rebellion,  which  is  an  offence  against  the 
laws   of  God   and   man,  by  such  a  name.     The  innocent 
blood  which  they  caused  to  be  poured  out  like  water  called 
for  the  just  but  heavy  retribution  of  shedd'.ng  their  own.' — 
'  Well,'  says  I,  'thorn  whoso  cause  the^.  took  hold  on  might 
bury  'em,  at  any  rate.     It  wouldn't  hurt  'cm  one  mite  or 
morsel  to  do  that  much,  I  am  sure.'  —  •  Patriots,' said  he, 
*  in  gineral,  are  too  busy  in  consartin'  scheme;  for  their 
own  aggrandizement  to  have  time  to  think  of  the  dead,  or 
care  for  the   livin'  either.     The  very  name  of  "  patriot" 
awakens  no  other  idea  than  that  of  the  con'ardly  assassin, 
or  midnight  incendiary.     Patriotism  and  the  worst  species 
of  crime  have  become  synonymous.'  —  'Call  'em  i^a.i-riots, 
then,'  says  I, '  if  you  ple.ise,  or  christen  them  anything  you 
like  :  but  they  ought  to  be  buried,  anyhow.    -'  So  they  had 
ought,'  said  he.     '  Poor  unfortunate  n.;jn  !   the  victims  of 
your  own  folly,  and  the  villany  of  your  more  subtle  and 
designing  accomplices,  I  pxty  you  —  I  pity  jou  from  my 
heart,  and  will  ask  permission  to  perform  the  last  sad  office 
for  you,  and  see  that  your  bodies  repose  in  peace  at  last. 
Ah  !   my  good  friend,'  said  he,  '  1k».vi  they  read  theii  bible 
more,  and  seditious  painphlets  less,  they  might  have  escaped 
this  ignominious  end.     They  would  have  observed  the  pre- 
cept of  the  psalmist  :  *'  Fear  God,  honor  tlie  king,  and  med- 
dle not  with  tltnn  that  are  ginn  to  ihatige.'"  ' — 'Stranger,' 
said  I  —  for  I  didn't  see  what  right  ho  had  for  to  go  for  to 


TOO    KNOWING    BY    HALF. 


98 


preach  to  me  — '  as  for  fearin'  the  Lord,'  says  J,  '  I  guess 
1  was  always  brought  up  to  that  since  I  was  knee-high,  or 
so,  to  a  cluiw  of  tobacco ;  and  as  for  a  king,  we  han't  got 
none,  and  ain't  likely  to  have  one.  "We  have  nothin'  but 
a  president,  and  he  is  a  divil  outlawed,  for  he  is  nothin'  but 
a  niit^ciable,  despicable  loco-foco.  Now,'  says  I, '  if  you  can 
find  anywhere  that  an  everlastin',  miserable  skunk  of  a  loco- 


foco  is  desarvin'  o 


f  hoi 


lor,  wii 


h 


but  he  would  ntheai 


me  out,  but  jist  walked  away  a  bit,  a-sayin'  of  '  Oh  !  oh  ! 
oh !'  as  if  he  had  a  fit  of  the  colic,  and  a-wavin'  of  his 
hand  up  and  down,  as  a  freemason  does  at  a  funeral.  The 
crittur  was  a  considerable  of  a  spooney,  that 's  a  fact ;  but, 
greenhorn  as  he  was,  he  warn't  far  out  in  his  latitude  about 
politics,  I  tell  you.  Whenever  I  hear  '  how  sweet  it  is' to 
die  for  one's  country,'  patriotism,  and  such  stufip,  I  always 
think  of  them  two  Shears's,  and  the  reward  they  got  at  the 
time,  and  now^  receive  from  posterity,  *Jor  mcddlirH  with 
tli'^th  that  are  given  to  change.''  " 


94 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


TOO    KNOWING    BY    HALF. 


Instead  of  embarking  at  Windsor  in  the  steamer  for 
New  Biunswick,  as  we  had  originally  designed,  Mr.  Slick 
proposed  driving  me  in  his  wagon  to  Horton,  by  the  Mount 
Denson  route,  that  I  might  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
what  lie  pronounced  to  be  some  of  the  most  beautiful  sce- 
nery in  the  province.  Having  arranged  v/ith  'he  com- 
mander of  the  boat  to  call  for  us  at  the  bluif,  we  set  out 
accoidingly  a  few  hours  before  high- water,  and  proceeded 
at  our  leisure  through  the  lower  part  of  Falmouth.  Mr. 
Slick,  as  the  reader  no  doubt  has  observed,  had  a  good 
deal  of  extravagance  of  manner  about  him,  and  was  not 
less  remari^able  for  his  exaggeration  of  language,  and, 
therefore,  I  was  by  no  means  prepared  to  find  a  scene  of 
such  exquisite  beauty  as  now  lay  before  me.  I  had  seen 
at  different  periods  of  my  life  a  good  deal  of  Europe,  and 
much  of  America  ;  but  I  have  seldom  seen  anything  to  be 
compared  to  the  \  lew  of  the  basin  of  Minas  and  its  adjacent 
landscape,  as  it  presents  itself  to  you  on  your  ascent  of 
Mount  Denson ;  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  so  little  is  it 
known  or  appreciated  here,  that  I  never  recollect  to  have 
heard  it  spoken  of  before,  as  anything  remarkable.  I  am 
not  vriting  a  book  of  travels,  and  shall  not  atienipt,  there- 
fore, to  describe  it.  1  am  sketching  character  not  scenerv, 
&x,d  puali  content  myself  by  recommending   all  Americrin 


y  ■&'->. 


TOO    KNOWINTx    BY    HALF. 


95 


tourists  to  visit  Mount  Denson.  It  is  an  old  saying  of  the 
Fr(Micli,  that  he  who  has  not  seen  Paris  has  seen  nothing. 
]n  like  manner,  ho  who  travels  on  this  continent,  and  does 
not  spend  a  few  days  on  the  shores  of  this  beautiful  and  ex- 
traordinary basin,  may  be  said  to  have  missed  one  of  the 
greatest  attractions  on  this  side  of  the  water.  Here,  too,  may 
bo  studied  the  phenomena  of  tides,  that  are  only  presented  to 
the  same  extent  in  one  other  part  of  the  world  ;  while  the 
iiiiiioralogist  and  geologist  will  find  much  to  employ  and 
interest  him.  It  possesses,  also,  the  charm  of  novelty.  It 
lies  out  of  the  beaton  track,  and  is  new.  In  these  days  of 
st(\*un  how  long  will  this  be  the  case  anywhere  ?  While 
musing  on  this  subject,  my  utteiition  was  directed  by  Mr. 
Slick,  who  suddenly  reined  up  his  horse,  to  a  scene  of  a 
ditl'oreut  description, 

"There,"  said  he,  "there  is  a  pictur'  for  you,  squire. 
Now,  that's  what  minister  would  call  love  in  a  cottage,  or 
rural  felicity,  for  he  was  fond  of  fine  names  was  the  old 
man."  A  neat  and  pretty  little  cottage  stood  before  us  as 
we  emerged  from  a  wood,  having  an  air  of  comfort  about  it 
not  often  found  in  the  forest,  where  the  necessaries  of  life 
demand  and  engross  all  llie  attention  of  the  settler,  "  Look 
at  that  crittur,"  said  lie,  "  Bill  Dill  :\nil.  There  he  sets  on 
the  gate,  with  his  go-to-meetin'  clothes  on,  a-doin'  of  noth- 
in',  with  a  pocket  full  of  potatoes,  cuttin'  them  up  into  small 
pieces  with  his  jacknife,  and  teachin'  a  pig  to  jump  up  and 
catch  'em  in  his  mouth.  It's  the  schoolmastei'  to  home, 
that.  And  there  sets  his  vouu";  wife  a-balancin'  of  herself 
on  the  to])  rail  of  the  fence  opposite,  and  a-s\vingin'  her 
foot  backward  and  forrerd,  and  a-watchin'  of  hirn.  Ain't 
"io  a  heavenly  splice,  that?     By  Jacob's  spotted  cattle, 


(  1 


tiMi 


jvwin^ 


9G 


SAM    SLICK'S    SAYINGS    AND    Dr.lNCS. 


what  an  ankle  she  has  !  Jist  look  !  a  rael  coin-fod  heifer, 
that,  ain't  she  ?  She  is  so  plump  she'd  shed  rain  like  a 
duck.  Them  Blue-noses  do  beat  all  in  galls,  I  must  say, 
for  they  raise  some  desperate  handsome  ones.  But  then 
there  is  nothin'  in  that  crlttur.  She  is  nothin'  but  wax- 
work—  no  life  there  ;  and  he  looks  tired  of  his  bargain  al- 
ready—  what  yon  called  l;jirly  onswaggled.  Now,  don't 
speak  loud,  for  if  she  sees  us  she'll  cut  and  run  like  a 
weasel.  She  has  got  her  ha'^  ,  ■•  c-/vered  c-  .  ^  .1.  laper- 
curls,  and  stuck  thro' with  ■,'>■■.-,  '''  -  a  i^r,^ ^i^,  5,  ',..  o-^^k. 
She's  for  a  tea-squall  to-i  gh*,    !  1      notl  '<  i'   /  "  es  "■   .nen 


like   bein'    taken   of   a    no 


h,(it!    11 


,;his  w.T. 


,  M,.  ,gers. 


That's  matiimony,  squire,  and  ■  othin'  t  \-;  .  honey- 
moon in  the  woods  or  you  "  iv^ve  grow  u  te..  days  old. 
Oh,  dear!  if  it  was  me,  I  shouid  yawn  so  afort  a  week,  I 
should  be  skeerd  lest  my  wife  should  jump  down  my 
throat.  To  be  left  alone  tluit  way  idle,  with  a  wife  that 
has  nothin'  to  do  and  nothin'  to  say,  if  she  was  as  pretty 
as  an  angcd,  would  drive  me  melancholy  mad.  I  should 
either  get  up  a  quarrel  for  vanity  sake,  or  go  hang  myself 
to  got  out  of  the  scrape.  A  tame,  vacant,  (h)ll-faced,  idle 
gall!  0  Lord  !  what  a  fate  for  a  man  who  knows  M'hat 's 
what,  and  is  up  to  snuff!  Who  the  phigue  can  live  on 
sugar-candy  \  I  am  sure  T  could  n't.  Notliin'  doe'  for  me 
like  honey  ;  arter  a  while  1  get  to  hate  it  like  sin  )  the  vary 
sight  of  it  is  enough  for  nie.  VililtHlir  Hili't  half  so  bad  ;  fol 
that  stimulates,  and  you  can't  take  more  nor  enough  of  it 
if  you  would.  Sense  is  better  nor  locdis  any  tinui ;  but 
when  sense  and  looks  goes  together,  why,  I  hen  a  woman  is 
worth  bavin',  that's  a  fiu'l,  Hill  lli-^  best  of  the  joke  is, 
that  crittur  Bill   Hill   IMill   has  1'ouimI   out  he  'knows  too 


TOO    KNOWING    BY    HALF. 


97 


inucli,'  and  is  most  frcttiu'  himself  to  death  about  it.  Ho 
is  act  illy  piuiu'  away  so,  that  it  will  soon  take  two  such 
n.iii  put  together  to  make  a  shadow;  and  this  I  will  say, 
that  he  is  the  first  feller  ever  I  met  that  actilly  was  ^  too 
hnowin  by  half.'  But  time  progresses,  and  so  must  we,  I 
pucss." 

'I'lic  noise  of  the  wagon,  as  Mr.  Slick  anticipated,  soon 
jiiit  the  young  bride  of  the  woods  to  flight,  and  a  few  hasty 
and  agile  bounds  carried  her  to  the  house ;  but  her  curi- 
osity proved  quite  as  strong  as  her  vanity,  for  the  paper 
head  was  again  visible,  peeping  over  the  window-blind. 
The  bridegroom  put  up  his  knife  with  an  air  of  confusion, 
as  if  he  was  half  ashamed  of  his  employment,  and  having 
given  a  nod  of  recognition  to  Mr.  Slick,  turned  and  followed 
his  wife  into  the  cottage. 

"  'J'his  is  the  effect,"  said  ^Mr.  Slick,  "  of  a  want  of  steady 
habits  of  industry.  That  man  lives  by  tradin',  and  bein'  a 
cute  chap,  and  always  gittin'  the  right  eend  of  the  bargain, 
folks  don't  think  it  a  profitable  business  to  sell  always  to  a 
loss;  so  he  says  he  is  ruined  by  hnou-in'  too  much.  *  Ah  !' 
said  he  to  me,  the  other  day,  '  I  don't  know  what  on  r.irth 
I  shall  do,  ]Mr.  Slick  ;  but  1  am  up  a  tree,  you  may  depend. 
It's  gone  goose  with  me,  I  tell  you.  People  have  such  a 
liigh  opinion  of  my  judgment,  and  think  I  know  so  7nuch, 
tlicy  ^^•on't  buy  nor  sell  with   me.     If  1  go  to  an  auction, 


mil 


1  l)id,  people  say,  "  Oh,  if  Bill  Dill  Mill  bids,  then  it 
I  lie  chea}),"  and  it  goes  beyond  its  valy  right  away. 
It  1  go  to  Kell  anything,  every  one  thinks  I  wouldn't  sell  it 
if  1  hadn't  a  very  good  reason  for  it,  fori  am  too  knou-lrC 
lor  that.  If  I  offer  to  swap,  I  only  stamp  a  valy  on  the 
tiling  I  want,  and  put  it  right  out  of  my  reach;  for  the 


1 , 


■<a 


98 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


owner  wouldn't  let  me  have  it  at  no  rate,  but  doubles  his 
price,  and  goes  and  says,  "  Bill  Dill  Mill  offered  me  so 
niucli  for  it,  and  everybody  knows  he  only  offers  half  a 
tiling  is  worth."  I  can't  hire  a  help  for  what  anybody  else 
can,  for  the  same  reason;  and  I  had  to  marry  before  I  was 
ready,  or  had  quite  made  up  my  mind  to  it;  for  I  knew 
folks  would  think  twice  as  much  of  my  gall  as  soon  as  they 
knew  I  was  after  her.  Darn  it,'  said  he,  '  if  they  said  I 
was  a  fool  I  wouldn't  a-minded  it  a  bit;  or  said  it  was 
luck,  or  anything,  Indeed,  I  don't  know  as  I  wouldn't  as 
lif  they'd  call  me  a  rogue,  as  say  for  ever  and  ever,  "  Oh, 
he's  too  knoicin  hy  half.'"  It's  the  divil,  that's  a  fact.  Be- 
fore this  misfortin  came  I  used  to  do  a  considerable  smart 
chance  of  business;  but  now  it's  time  for  me  to  cut  dirt, 
and  leave  the  country.  I  believe  I  must  hang  out  the 
G.  T.  T.  sign.'  —  'Why,  what  the  plague  is  thatf  says  I. 
*  Gone  to  Texas,'  said  he.  What  else  on  airth  shall  I  do. 
I  have  notliin'  to  see  to,  and  the  day  seems  twice  as  long 
as  it  used  to  dm.'  —  'Ah!'  says  I,  'I  have  heerd  folks  say 
so  afore,  when  they  was  jist  new  married.  But  I  see  what 
you  want;  you  want  excitement.  How  would  politics  do? 
It's  a  wide  field,  and  some  considerable  sport  in  it,  too. 
Agitate  tlie  country;  swear  the  church  is  a-goin'  to  levy 
tithes,  or  dissenters  to  be  taxed  to  support  them,  or  that  the 
governor  is  a-goin'  to  have  martial  law.  Call  officeholders 
by  the  cant  tarms  of  compact  cliques  and  official  gang,  and 
they  will  have  to  gag  you  with  a  seat  in  the  council,  or 
somethin' or  another:  see  if  they  don't.' — '  No,' said  ho, 
a-shakiu'  of  his  head  ;  '  poor  business  that ;  there  is  nothin' 
to  be  made  by  it,  as  far  as  I  see,  but  inimies ;  and,  besides, 
people  are  fond  of  a  change ;  they  get  tired  of  professions 


TOO    KNOWING   BY   HALF. 


99 


iit  last,  and  jist  as  you  are  a-going  to  reap  the  advantage, 
aiiotlior  feller  outbids  you,  and  carries  oft"  the  prize.  No, 
tliiit  won't  do.' 

'"Well,  preachin','  says  I,  'how  •would  that  answer? 
Tnke  up  some  new  p'iut,  and  you  will  have  lots  of  folks  to 
hear  you;  and  the  more  extravagant  the  better.  Go  the 
whole  figtu-'  for  "  religions  liberty  ;"  it  has  no  meaniu'  here, 
where  all  are  free,  but  it's  a  catchword,  and  sounds  well. 
You  don't  want  ordination  now-a-days  ;  it's  out  of  fashion  ; 
give  yourself  a  call;  it's  as  good  as  any  other  man's  call. 
A  man  that  can't  make  himself  a  preacher  is  a  poor  tool, 
that's  a  fact,  and  not  fit  to  make  converts.'  —  'Hem  !'  says 
he,  '  I  was  a-thinkin'  of  that,  for  ministers  fare  well  in  a 
ginoral  way,  that's  sartin ;  and  a-travellin'  about,  and 
a-livin'  on  the  best,  and  sleepin'  in  the  spare  bed  always, 
ain't  a  had  move  nother  ;  but  I  han't  the  gift  (»f  the  gab,  I 
am  afoerd,  and  I  coiddn't  come  it  no  how  I  could  ^x  it.' — 
'  Well,  'tis  awkward,'  says  1,  '  to  be  thought  too  knorvin'  hy 
half,  too  ;  did  an}-  one  ever  accuse  you  of  bein'  too  indus- 
trious hy  halfV  — '  What  do  you  mean  by  that?'  said  he, 
a  little  grumphy  like.  '  Nothin','  says  I,  'but  what  I  say. 
Got  a  spinnin'- wheel  for  your  wife,  and  a  plough  for  your- 
self; work  more  and  trade  less;  live  by  your  labor,  and 
not  by  your  wits ;  and  the  day,  instead  of  being  so  'tarnal 
long,  won't  be  long  enough  by  a  jug-full.  Instead  of  bein' 
''too  Inou'in''  by  half,''  yon  don't  "know  Jialf  cnougJi,''  ox 
you  W  know  that.' 

"  Fact,  I  assure  you,  squire,  if  that  crittur  had  railly  been 
a  knowin'  one,  the  name  of  it  wouldn't  a-fixed  his  flute  for 
him,  for  there  is  always  a  'why'  for  every  'wherefore*  in 
this  world.     There  is  a  thousand  ways  for  managing  that. 


I  \ .  ^  (Mr  1 


100 


SAM   slick's   sayings    AND    DOINGS. 


Now  I  got  the  name  myself.  TIhmji  tricks  in  tlic  clock- 
trade  I  told  you,  1  didn't  think  you  would  go  right  away 
and  publish  ;  hut  you  did,  and  it  put  people  on  their  guard, 
BO  there  was  no  doin'  nothin'  with  thcni  for  some  time  hard 
ly  ;  and  if  I  went  to  say  a  civil  thing,  people  looked  shy  at 
me,  and  called  out,  '  Soft  sawder.' 

"Well,  what  does  I  do  1  Insterd  of  goin'  about  mopin' 
and  complaiuin*  that  I  was  '  too  knowin'  by  half,'  I  sot  my- 
self about  repairin'  damage,  and  gitten  up  something  now; 
so  1  took  to  phrenology.  '  Soft  sawder'  by  itself  requires 
a  knowledge  of  paintin',  of  light  and  shade,  and  drawin', 
too.  You  must  know  character.  Some  })eople  will  take  a 
coat  put  on  by  a  whitewash-brush  as  thick  as  porridge; 
others  won't  stand  it  if  it  ain't  laid  on  thin  like  copal,  and 
that  takes  twenty  coats  to  look  complete  ;  and  others,  agin 
are  more  delicater  still,  so  that  you  must  lay  it  on  like  gold- 
leaf,  and  that  you  have  to  take  up  with  a  camel's  hair  brush, 
with  a  little  pomatum  on  the  tip  of  it,  and  hold  your  breath 
while  you  are  a-spreadin'  of  it  out,  or  the  leastest  grain  of 
air  from  your  nose  will  blow  it  away.  But,  still,  whether 
laid  on  thick  or  thin,  a  cute  ])erson  can  tell  what  you  are 
at;  though  it  tickles  him  so  Avhile  you  are  a-doin'  of  it,  he 
can't  help  showin'  how  pleased  he  is.  But  your  books 
played  the  divil  with  me';  folks  wouldn't  let  me  do  it  at  all 
arter  they  came  out,  at  no  rate;  first  civil  word  always 
brought  out  the  same  answer:  'Ah!  now,  that's  your 
"Soft  sawder;"  that  won't  do.'  —  'Won't  it  tlio','  says  I. 
'I'll  give  you  the  same  ingredients  in  a  new  shape,  and 
you  will  swaller  it  without  knowin'  it,  or  else  I  am  mis- 
takend,  that's  all.'  So  now,  when  I  enter  a  location,  arter 
a  little  talk  about  this,  that,  or  the  other,  I  looks  at  one  of 


TOO    KN'OWING   BY   HALF. 


101 


the  young  grow'd  up  gails  ainiest  like,  till  she  says,  *  Mr. 
Slirk,  wliat  on  niiili  art;  you  lookin'  ntV  —  •  Nothin','  says 
1,  '  niy  dear,  l)ut  a  most  remarkable  development.' — 'A 
■vvliat  V  nays  slie.  '  A  remarkable  development,'  says  I ; 
*  flic  most  remarkable,  too,  I  ever  seed  since  1  was  raised.' 
—  'Why,  what  in  natur'  is  that?'  says  she.  'Excuse  me, 
miss,'  says  1,  and  I  gets  up,  and  puts  my  finger  on  lier 
crown.  '  What  benevolence  !'  says  I,  '  and  firmness  of  char- 
acter !  did  yon  ever  !  —  and  then,'  says  I,  a-passin'  my  fin- 
ger over  the  eyebrow,  'you  ought  to  sing  well,  positzue/y/ 
it 's  your  own  fault  if  you  don't,  for  you  have  oncommon 
jiitikilar  powers  that  way.  Your  time  is  large,  and  tune 
great;  yes,  and  composition  is  strong.' —  Well,  how 
strange  !'  says  she  ;  'you  ha.rr  guessed  right,  I  sware,  for  I 
do  sing,  and  am  allowed  to  have  the  best  ear  for  music  in 
all  these  clearin's.  How  on  airth  can  you  tell?  If  that 
don't  pass!' — 'Tell!'  says  I,  'why,  it's  what  they  call 
phrenology,  and  a  most  beautiful  study  it  is.  I  can  read  a 
head  as  plain  as  a  book;  and  this  I  will  say,  a  finer  head 
than  yourn  I  never  did  see,  positz'rr///.  What  a  splendid 
forehead  you  have  !  it's  a  sight  to  behold.  If  you  was  to 
take  pains  you  could  do  anything  a'most.  Would  you  like 
to  have  it  read,  miss?'  Well,  arter  hearin'  me  pronounce 
aforehand  at  that  rate,  she  is  sure  to  Avant  it  read  ;  and 
tiien  I  say,  '  I  wont  read  it  aloud,  miss;  I'll  whisper  it  in 
your  ear,  and  you  shall  say  if  I  am  right.'  —  'Do,'  says 
she;  '  I  shouM  like  to  see  what  mistakes  you '^!  make,  for 
I  can't  believe  it  possible  you  can  tell,;  it  don't  convene 
to  reason,  does  it  V 

"  Nothin',  squire,  never  stops  a  woman   when  her  curi- 
osity is  once  up,  especially  if  she  be  curous  to  know  some- 


IP! 


^n; 


s> 


%'  „o 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^<^^ 


^ 


#/ 


.<? 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


l^|2^    |2.5 

|50  "^   n^H 
"  1^   III  2.2 


2.0 


U.  11 1.6 


^1 


<^ 


.%. 


/a 


w^^ 

^^y 


& 


"n 


o^ 


/A 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


.A' 


^<i,\4^ 


^ 


102 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND  DOINGS. 


I    f 


I'  -Ir 


tliin'  about  herself.  Only  hold  a  isccret  out  in  your  hand 
to  her,  and  it's  like  a  bunch  of  catnip  to  a  cat ;  she  '11  jump, 
and  frisk,  and  frolic  round  you  like  anything,  and  never 
give  over  purrin'  and  coaxin'  of  you  till  she  gets  it. 
They'll  do  anything  for  you  a'niost  for  it.  So  I  slides 
out  my  knee  for  a  seat,'  and  says,  '  It  'a  no  harmj  miss,  you 
know,  for  ma  is  here,  and  I  must  look  near  to  tell  you ;'  so 
I  draws  her  on  my  knee  without  waiting  for  an  answer. 
Then  gradually  one  arm  goes  round  the  waist,  and  t'  other 
hand  goes  to  the  head,  bumpologizin',  and  I  whispers,  'Wit, 
paintin',  judgment,  fancy,  order,  music,'  and  every  good 
thing  a'most.  And  she  keeps  a-sayin',  '  Well,  he  's  a  witch  ! 
well,  how  strange !  lawful  heart !  well,  I  want  to  know ! 
now,  I  never  !  do  tell !'  as  pleased  all  the  time  as  anything. 
Lord  !  squire,  you  never  see  anything  like  it ;  it 's  Jerusa- 
lem fine  fun.  Well,  then  I  wind  up  by  touchin'  the  back 
of  her  head  hard  (you  know,  squire,  what  they  call  the 
amative  bumps  are  located  there),  and  then  whisper  a  bit 
of  a  joke  to  her  about  her  makin  a  very,  very  lovin'  wife, 
and  80  on,  and  she  jumps  up  a-colorin'  and  a-sayin',  *  It  'b 
no  such  a  thing.  You  missed  that  guess,  anyhow.  Take 
that  for  not  guesain'  better,'  and  pretendin'  to  slap  me,  and 
all  that;  but  actilly  ready  to  jump  over  the  moon  for  de- 
light. Don't  my  clocks  get  fuvst  admired  and  then  bought- 
en,  arter  this  readin'  of  heads,  that 's  all  1  Yes  ;  that 's  the 
beauty  of  phrenology.  You  can  put  a  clock  into  their 
heads  when  you  are  a-puttin'  other  fine  things  in,  too,  as 
easy  as  kiss  my  hand.  I  have  sold  a  nation  lot  of  them 
by  it. 

•'  The  only  thing  agin  phrenology  is,  it 's  a  little  bit  dan- 
gerous.    It's  only  fit  for  an  old  hand  like  me,  that's  up  to 


TOO   KNOWING   BY   HALF. 


103 


trap,  for  a  raw  one  is  amazin'  apt  to  get  spooney.  Taking 
a  gall  on  your  knee  that  way,  with  one  hand  on  her  heart, 
that  goes  pitty-pat  like  a  watch  tickin',  and  the  other 
a-rovin'  about  her  head  a-discoverin'  of  bumps,  is  plaguy 
apt  to  make  a  fool  of  you  without  your  knowin'  of  it. 
Many  a  bird  has  got  fascinated  so  afore  now,  that,  do  what 
it  would,  it  couldn't  get  away.  It  might  flutter  and  strug 
gle  a  little ;  but,  at  last,  it  would  fall  as  helpless  as  any 
thing,  right  down.  But,  then,  a  fool  is  a  fool  all  the  world 
over.  For  my  part  I  am  not  afeerd  of  none  of  them.  This, 
squire,  is  what  I  call  reason,  and  knowin'  the  world.  A 
wise  man  is  never  taken  at  a  nonplush.  But  Bili  Dill 
Mill  is  a  noodle,  and  such  a  one,  too,  as  it  would  take 
Geven  fools  and  a  philosopher  to  make,  and  even  then  they 
wouldn't  make  no  part  of  a  primin'  to  him.  He  has  got 
ei^erything  to  I'arn  yet,  that  feller;  for  a  crittur  that  is 
'  too  knowin'  by  haJf^  may  know  too  much  far  other  folks' 
good,  hut  he  do  rCt  know  '  half  enough'  f^^'  hi  own.  that '«  a 
facir 


■  f^ 


J II 


■J 


i 

K 
,     % 

f 


y 


r 
'I' 


I 


;l 


m 


il|i;<  ! 


104 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


MATRIMONY. 


"Talkin'  of  that  young  bride  of  Bill  Dill  Mill,  and 
phrenology,"  continued  the  clockmaker,  "  puts  me  in  mind 
of  a  conversation  I  had  with  minister  about  women,  jist 
afore  I  came  down  here  the  last  time.  The  old  man  was 
advisin'  of  me  to  marry,  and  settle  down  to  Slickville,  into 
what  he  called  *  &,  useful  member  of  society.'  Poor  old 
crittur !  he  is  so  good  himself,  he  thinks  no  harm  of  no  one, 
and  looks  on  a  gall  as  a  rose  without  a  thorn,  or  an  angel 
in  petticoats,  or  somethin'  of  that  kind ;  but  book-rarned 
men  seldom  know  nothin'  but  books,  and  there  is  one  never 
was  printed  yet  worth  all  they  got  on  their  shelves,  which 
they  never  read,  nor  even  so  much  as  cut  the  leaves  of,  for 
the}  don't  onderstand  the  hand writin',  and  that  is  —  human 
natur'.  On  most  subjecta  no  man  could  advise  better  nor 
minister ;  but  on  the  question  of  woman  he  is  as  dreamy 
as  a  poet,  chock  full  of  romance  and  nonsense,  and  actilly 
talks  blank  varse,  where  the  rhyme  is  left  out.  It's  con- 
siderable of  a  long  yarn,  but  it  will  give  you  some  idea 
what  an  innocent,  pure-hearted,  dear  old  crittur  he  is ;  in- 
deed, among  our  ministers  he  is  actilly  at  the  top  of  the 
pot.     He  is  quite  '  a  case,'  I  do  assure  you. 

*•  One  arternoon,  as  we  was  a-sittin'  together  smokin', 
says  he,  awakin'  up  out  of  one  of  his  bouts  of  cipherin'  in 
Lis  head,  '  Sam,'  says  he,  '  it's  most  time  you  was  thinkin' 


MATRIMONY. 


105 


of  settlin'  yourself  in  the  world.  By  all  accounts  you  are 
considerable  well  to  do  now,  and  have  made  an  ever- 
lastin'  sight  of  money  among  the  Blue-noses  to  Nova 
Scotia :  you  should  look  round  for  a  help-mate,  and  pick 
yourself  out  a  rael,  complete,  right-down  good  wife.  There 
is  nothin'  like  matrimony,  nothin'  like  home,  nothin'  on 
airth  to  be  compared  to  a  vartuous  woman.  They  are 
soinethin'  better  than  men,  and  somethin'  jist  a  little  less 
tlian  angels,  when  you  can  fall  in  with  one  of  the  right 
kind.  Oh,  a  right-minded,  sound-minded,  and  pure-minded 
woman  is  the  greatest  and  best  work  of  God.  Man  was 
made  out  of  gross  materials,  of  nothin*  but  clay  and  spittle ; 
but  woman,  she  was  made  out  of  the  rib  of  man,  twice 
refined  and  remoulded,  as  it  were,  from  a  substance  that 
had  been  cleared  of  its  dross  by  a  procsss  of  previous 
formation.  She  was  the  last  work  of  creation ;  the  best, 
the  most  finished,  the  most  beautiful.  Man  is  airthenware, 
coarse,  rude,  rough,  and  oneeemly.  Woman  is  porcelain^  a 
crittur  highly  finished  and  delicate.  Man  was  made  for 
knockiu'  about,  he  is  tough  and  strong ;  but  woman,  to  be 
taken  care  of  and  handled  gently.  What  a  sweet  thing  is 
innocence,  Sam  ;  how  beautiful  to  contemplate,  how  lovely 
to  associate  with  !  As  a  philosopher,  I  admire  purity  in 
the  abstract ;  but,  as  a  man  and  a  Christian,  I  love  it  when 
parsonified.  Purity  in  a  child,  of  such  is  heaven ;  purity 
in  woman,  of  such  also  is  the  realms  of  bliss ;  but  purity  in 
man  —  oh,  Sam,  I  am  most  afeord,  sometimes,  there  ain't 
much  of  it  anywhere  now  a  days,  I  snore :  but  matrimony, 
Sam,  is  a  state  ordained  by  God,  not  only  to  carry  out  his 
great  purposes  that  is  above  our  comprehension,  but  also  for 
our  happiness ;  yes,  it  is  a  nateral  state,  and  a  considerable 


m 


m 


5 


ti' 


Ki'i 


M 


5 


aauutmuBiwraiiiigijuwiMgti  lumm 


mm 


11: 


K!,l  'i 


106 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINOS. 


l;iV::'  ' 


of  a  pleasant  one  too,  when  well  considered  and  rightly 
entered  upon.  Don't  put  it  oflf  too  long,  Sam ;  don't  wait 
till  the  heart  ossifies.'  — '  Ossifies  !'  ways  I  ;  *  why  what  the 
plague  is  that,  minister?'  —  'Why,  Sam,'  says  he,  'you 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  axe  that  are  question.  I  do  be- 
lieve, in  my  soul,  you  have  forgot  all  you  ever  larned  while 
tradin'  among  them  benighted  critturs  in  the  British  prov- 
inces. Ossifies,  means  growin'  into  a  hard  substance,  like 
a  bone.'  —  'Oh,'  says  I,  'now  I  see,  and  that's  the  reason 
of  the  old  sayin',  when  a  man  licks  his  wife  like  a  sack, 
•'  I  've  got  a  bone  to  pick  with  you,  my  dear,"  says  he, 
and  shows  the  crittur's  heart  is  ossified.  There  are  some 
men,  I  know,  that  would  find  it  the  luckiest  thing  that  ever 
happened  them  to  have  their  hearts  ossified,  if  it  took  that 
turn  sometimes.  You  may  rave  as  much  as  you  please, 
minister,  about  purity,  and  porcelain  ware,  and  vartue,  and 
all  that  are  sort  of  thing,  till  you  are  tired,  but  there  are 
some  women  I  've  seed  that  have  more  of  the  devil  and  less 
of  the  angel  in  'em  than  you  are  a-thinkin'  on,  /  can  tell 
you.  Hegular  built  bruisers,  too  ;  claw  your  eyes  right  out, 
like  a  Carolina  gouger,  and  walk  right  into  you  afore  you 
know  where  you  be.'  —  'Well,'  said  he,  'p'raps  so;  it 
mought  be  the  case  since  the  fall,  but  that's  mostly  our 
own  faults,  our  own  bringin'  of  them  up :  but  I  was  a-goin' 
to  explain  to  you  about  the  heart.  As  wo  grow  old,  it 
hardens,  and  loses  its  feelin'.  When  we  are  young  it  is  a8 
sensitu't^  as  anything;  you  can't  hardly  touch  it  without 
givin'  it  pain  or  pleasure.  It  is  so  cute,  and  beats  so  strong 
and  quick  that  it's  sensations  are  plaguy  powerful.  Well, 
as  we  advance  in  years,  tlie  outer  coverin'  of  it  liardens, 
and  gets  as  rough  as  the  bark  of  a  hemlock  tree,  and  when 


<  'Ml! 


MATRIMONY. 


107 


you  peel  that  off,  then  there  is  a  hard,  close,  tough  rind  all 
round  it,  and  inside  that  another,  they  call  the  inner  cu — 
tickle.  Ingratitude,  and  disappointment,  and  onkindness, 
and  the  wear-and-tear  of  the  world,  does  this,  so  as  to  de- 
fend the  heart  from  sufferin'  pain  all  the  time.  I  guess  it's 
a  wise  provision  of  natur',  a  marciful  dispensation  that. 
If  we  don't  feel  so  much  pleasure,  we  feel  less  pain ;  we 
hai^e  Jess  and  less  heart,  until  we  get  gradually  weaned  from 
airtlily  things,  and  put  our  affections  on  things  above.  The 
passions  cease  to  play,  and  reason  begins  to  dominate  in 
their  place.  We  are  less  the  critturs  of  feelin',  and  more 
the  subjects  of  wisdom.  You  apprehend  me,  Sam,  don't 
you  V — *  It 's  as.  plain  as  a  pike-staff,*  says  I,  *  and  as  clear 
as  mud.  That  ossified  skin  you  talk  of,  puts  me  in  mind 
of  them  nasty,  dirty,  horrid  critturs,  the  Scotch  and  Irish 
peasants.  They  don't  wear  no  shoes  and  stockings,  but  go 
barefooted,  and  their  soles  become  as  hard  as  the  hoofs  of 
jackasses ;  and  them  little,  short-legged,  hairy  Highlanders 
kick  every  bit  as  hard,  and  twice  as  wicked,  as  donkeys, 
too.  They  are  shockin'  critturs  them,  for  if  there  's  a  part 
about  a  man  or  woman  that 's  not  fit  to  be  seen  at  no  time, 
it 's  the  foot.  Women  that  go  that  way,  put  me  in  mind 
of  a  divin'  duck  there  is  to  Labrador,  that  has  a  red  shank 
and  a  black-webbed  foot;  our  sailors  call  'em  the  immi- 
grant ladies;  and  them  ducks  act  exactly  like  the  galls, 
too,  a-flirtin'  and  a-frolickin'  about  like  fun.  You'll  see  a 
duck  now,  minister,  sailin'  round  and  round  about  her  mate, 
ever  so  slow,  to  attract  his  attention  like;  and  when  he 
sees  her  and  makes  up  to  her,  smirkiu'  and  courtin',  she 
jist  downs  with  her  head  and  ups  with  her  legs,  and  way 
she  dives  right  out  of  sight  in  no  time,  leavin'  him  alone. 


!    i 


-'M 


'•    II 


III!    • 

lii 


p'i 

III 


,11,'    1 


I! 
11   I 


IM! 


ri  ■ ' 


l!  ' 


108 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


starein'  and  wonderin'  like  a  fool.  That  gets  his  dander 
up  immediately,  and  when  he  sees  her  come  up  agin,  off  he 
sets  arter  her  hot  foot,  and  she  gives  him  the  dodge  agin ; 
and  when  they  get  tired  of  that  fun,  they  sail  off  together, 
a-liftin'  up  their  heads  and  a-gabblin'  away  liko  anything, 
so  pleased.  Rompin'  seems  kinder  nateral  to  all  created 
critturs,  and  the  female  is  everywhere  a-tormentin*,  wicked, 
teasin',  little  toad.  Natur'  is  natur',  that's  &  fact.' — 'Well, 
Sam,'  said  he,  larfin',  •  for  a  man  that  minims  the  main 
chance  tolerable  well  as  you  do,  I  never  seed  one  yet  so 
amazin'  full  of  nonsense  as  yon  be ;  you  have  such  strange 
ideas  as  never  entered  into  no  soul's  head  but  your  own,  I 
do  believe  :  and  yet,  as  you  say,  mirth  and  playfulness  does 
seem  kinder  nateral :  the  Latin  poet,  Virgil,  if  you  hain't 
forgot  all  you  ever  lamed  to  night-school  with  me,  has 
beautifully  illustrated  that.'  He  then  said  S3me  Latin 
about  a  gall  peltin'  her  spark  with  apples,  but  I  misremem- 
ber  the  words."     "  Perhaps  he  quoted  these  lines,"  said  I : — 

"  '  Male  mo  Galatea  petit,  Lasciva  puella 

Et  fugit  ad  Salices,  sed  se  cupit  ante  videri.' " 

"Ay,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "them's  the  very  identical  ones. 
—  'Now,'  says  minister,  'that  is  natur',  for  he  was  natur's 
poet  was  Virgil.' — •  Natur',' says  I,  'I  guess  it  is  natur'. 
A  little  innicent  rompin'  (it  must  be  innicent  tho',  minis- 
ter,' said  I,  and  I  looked  up  to  him  as  demure  as  you 
please),  '  is  what  I  call  primi^u-e  and  nateral,  and,  I  must 
say,  I  am  shocking  fond  of  a  little  of  it  myself.'  —  'You  are 
right,'  said  he,  *  to  say  innocent,  Sam,  for  nothin'  that 's  not 
innocent  ever  gives  real  pleasure;  nothin'  that's  impure 
can  be  happy.     The  fact  is,  I  don't  jist  altogether  like  that 


MATRIMONY. 


109 


word  "  roinpin* ;"  it's  a  coarse  thing,  and  a  vulgar  thing, 
and  only  flt  for  such  benighted  critturs  as  them  in  the 
British  provinces ;  say  mirth,  innocent  mirth,  and  then  I 
agree  with  you:  that  I  do  approbate.  I  delight  in  that; 
it's  a  sign  of  a  sweet  disposition,  a  pure  mind,  and  a  light 
heart.  But  mirth  is  different  from  rompin'.  It  don't  ad- 
mit, as  rompin'  does,  of  obstropolous  noise,  nor  ticklin*,  nor 
screamin',  and  things  that  don't  seem  quite  decent;  call  it 
mirth,  and  I  won't  non-concur  you.' — 'You  may  call  it 
what  convenes  you,  minister,'  isays  I,  'but  still  it's  the 
identical  same  thing,  that's  a  fact.  It  puts  life  into  a 
body.  It  piques  you,  and  raises  your  dander  like  :  I  must 
say,  I  like  a  romp  dearly.  Now,  that's  the  reason  married 
folks  are  so  everlastin'  striped ;  they  never  romp.  It  makes 
me  feel  skeery  of  matrimony,  to  see  it  so  heavy  and  sour ; 
I  don't  wonder  so  many  folks  to  Slickville  have  got  the 
dyspepsy ;  the  only  thing  I  wonder  at  is,  how  they  can 
digest  at  all.  I  guess,  now,  if  a  married  woman  was  to  imi- 
tate that  are  divin'  duck,  give  her  husband  the  dodge  now 
and  then,  and  whenever  he  came  near  hand  to  her,  jist  race 
ofi"  and  let  him  chase  her,  she'd — '  *  Ahem  !'  says  minister, 
'  ahem  !  Sam,  we  won't  illustrate ;  we  won't  enter  into  de- 
tails, if  you  please ;  where  was  we  when  we  got  off  into 
this  rompin'  digression.'  — '  Why,'  says  I,  *  you  was  ad- 
visin'  of  me  to  get  married  afore  my  heart  got  bonafied.'— - 
'  Ossified,'  said  he,  '  I  did  n't  say  bonafied.  I  wish  it  was 
a  bonafide  one,  that 's  a  fact.  True,  Sam,  marry  airly ; 
marry  before  the  feelin's  become  blunted,  and  before  you 
grow  suspicious  and  cold.  All  our  young  emotions  are 
good  and  generous ;  but  we  become  jealous,  selfish^  and 
mean,  as  we  advance  in  years.     At  first,  we  see  nothin* 


i 


\\\ 


^l':nl 


i  f*' 


1%-^ 


t)' 


I 


n 


■; 


no 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINQB   AND   DOINGS. 


I   I 


■I  'I 


'i  :l 


jii'i :! 


Mr':'' 


I- 


II  ! 


but  the  roses  and  flowers  of  life  afore  us  and  our  young 
eyes  are  so  good,  and  onr  vision  so  cute,  the  colors  all  look 
bright  and  beautiful,  and  we  can  distinguish  all  the  tints 
and  shades  ever  so  far  off,  as  plain  as  can  be.  Well,  away 
we  go  to  gather  them,  to  make  'em  into  garlands  and 
weave  'em  into  wreaths,  and  never  think  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand millions  of  thorns  that  are  onder  the  leaves  and  are 
all  over  the  bushes.  Well,  first  we  tear  all  our  clothes  to 
tatters,  and  then  we  prick  our  fingers,  and  inflammation 
and  fester  comes,  and  run  *em  into  our  feet,  and  contraction 
and  lameness  comes,  and  scratch  our  little  faces  till  the  tears 
run  down  our  cheeks  and  mingle  with  it.  But  that  ain't  the 
worst  of  it  by  a  long  chalk,  neither ;  for  many  a  time,  jist 
as  we  pull  the  rose,  and  go  to  put  it  to  our  bosoms,  away 
goes  all  the  leaves,  a-fluttcrin'  off  to  the  ground  ;  it  was  too 
full-blown  to  bear  rough  handlin',  and  we  get  nothin'  but 
the  stem  in  our  hand,  and  ever  so  many  prickles  a-stickin' 
into  the  skin.  And  if  we  do  succeed  in  gettin'  the  rose 
arter  all,  and  take  it  to  home,  why,  next  mornin'  when  we 
wake  up  and  look  at  it,  oh,  the  leaves  are  all  edged  with 
brown  and  dirty  yaller,  and  the  sprig  is  all  wilted,  and  it 
looks  flabbergastered  like,  and  faded,  and  it 's  only  fit  to  be 
throwd  out  of  the  windur ;  for  nothin'  looks  so  bad  a'most 
as  a  wilted  flower.  Jist  so  is  the  world,  Sam ;  only  the 
world  has  its  thorns  for  the  heart,  and  that 's  more  than  the 
rose  has ;  and  who  shall  heal  them  ?  Philosophy  may  give 
its  styptics,  and  religion  its  balm,  but  there  are  some 
wounds  in  that  place,  Sam ;'  and  he  clapt  his  hand  on  his 
breast,  and  did  look  dreadful  bad,  poor  old  crittur,  and  I 
pitied  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul,  for  I  knowd  what 
he  was  leadin'  to — 'there  are  some  wounds  here,  Sam,' 


hi 
III 


MATRIMONY. 


Ill 


snid  he,  '  thnt  the  eye  can  not  see,  nor  the  hand  reach ; 
which  riothin'  a'most  can  cure.  They  may  heal  over  and 
get  cicatrized,  and  seem  all  right  agin,  hut  still  they  are  so 
tender,  you  can't  bear  to  touch  them  without  winciu',  and 
every  now  and  then  they  open  of  themselves,  like  old  scars 
do  in  the  scurvy,  and  bleed,  and  throb,  and  ache ;  oh  !  how 
they  ache !' 

"  '  When  my  elders  discharged  me,  Sam,  and  reformed  me 
out,  and  took  a  unitarian  in  my  place,  I  actilly  thought  my 
heart  would  a-burst  with  grief;'  and  his  voice  quivered  and 
trembled  like  anything,  and  a  great  big  tear-drop  rose  up 
in  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and  swelled,  and  swelled,  till  it 
bust  and  run  over,  and  trickled  down  one  of  the  fuiTows 
of  Ills  cheek,  but  he  wouldn't  let  on  he  knowd  it,  and 
wouldn't  wipe  it  off,  hopin'  I  wouldn't  see  it,  I  suppose. 
It  actilly  a'most  made  me  pipe  my  eye  to  see  him,  it  was 
so  affectin'.  So,  says  I,  'I  know  it  all,  minister,'  says  I; 
•  we  won't  talk  of  that ;  what's  done  is  done,  but  the  loss  is 
theirs,  and  it  sarves  them  right.'  But  it  didn't  stop  him, 
he  went  right  on — 'For,  0  Sam!'  said  he,  'the  fountain 
of  love  lies  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  human  heart.  It 
may  cease  to  gush  over,  as  it  does  in  youth,  when  it  is  fed 
by  a  thousand  rills  of  emotion.  The  wintry  frosts  of  old 
age  may  dry  up  some  of  its  springs,  and  the  lacerations  of 
ingratitude  may  drain  off  and  limit  its  supply;  but  deep 
and  far  down  is  the  well,  Sam,  where  summer-heats  and 
wintry  frost  can  not  penetrate,  and  its  water  —  what  little  is 
left  of  it  in  old  age  —  is  as  pure,  and  sweet,  and  pellucid  as 
ever,  and  there  it  remains  till  the  temple  that  covers  it 
(that'p  the  body,  you  see,  Sam),  crumbled  and  mouldered 
by  time,  totters  to  its  fall,  anil  chokes  it  in  its  ruins.     But 


t>!    ''^ 


'IKS!' 


,  I 


112 


SAM    SLICK'S    SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


ito,  ;l 


Mi 
■I 


O  Sam  !  if  our  friends  —  tliem  that  we  dearly  loved  —  base- 
ly desert  us  at  last,  and  meanly  betray  us ;  if  them  wc  ad- 
iTiitted  to  our  confidence,  and  folded  with  affection  to  our 
bosoms,  pour  into  that  fountain  the  waters  of  bitterness, 
and  pollute  it  at  its  source,  better,  far  better,  that  we  had 
died  first.  I  could  have  met  my  eend  as  became  my  voca- 
tion and  my  principles,  had  the  blow  been  dealt  out  by  ene- 
mies, Sam  ;  but,  oh  !  it  came  from  my  friends,  from  them  I 
loved  as  brothers,  nay,  more  than  as  brothers,  as  children. 
It  was  too  much  for  my  narves.  It  overpowered  my 
strength,  and  I  hid  my  face  in  my  hands,  as  Coesar  did  in 
his  mantle,  and  wept  like  a  child.  Ei  tu,  said  I  — for  I 
couldn't  help  a-thinkin'  of  that  are  old  republican  hero,  for 
it  was  jist  the  way  them  are  pretended  reformers  sarved 
him  out  —  et  tu,  says  I,  et  tu  Brute  P  — '  You  might  well 
say  a  brute,'  says  I ;  '  and  if  I  had  a-been  near  hand  to 
ihem,  I  'd  a  sarved  them  like  a  brute,  too,  I  know.  I  *d 
a-cropt  their  ears,  and  branded  them  on  the  rump,  as  they 
do  a  horse  that 's  turned  out  on  the  common  in  the  fall. 
J  'd  a  marked  them  V.  B.  (the  voluntary  brutes !),  hang  me 
if  I  would  n't.  I  'd  a-kicked  them  till  I  kicked  their  west- 
ern eends  up  to  their  shoulders,  and  made  'em  cany  em 
(here  like  a  mason's  hod  :  "  Sich  a  gittin'  up  stairs  you 
never  did  see."'  —  'Sam,'  said  he,  'you  actilly  frighten 
me,  you  talk  so  savage  ;  it  makes  my  blood  run  cold.  Let 
UB  leave  the  subject,  and  go  right  back  to  what  we  was 
a-talkin'  of;'  and  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  face  hard,  as 
if  to  shove  back  the  expression  o'  pain  and  sorrow  that  was 
there,  and  keep  it  out  of  view ;  and,  then,  said  he,  a-lookin' 
up  all  bright  agin,  '  Where  was  we,  Sam  ?  for  my  mind 
goes    a    wool-gathering    sometimes,    and    gets    confused. 


I ' 


I 


MATRIMONY. 


118 


Where  wa8  wc  ?'  — '  A-talkin'  of  the  galls,'  says  I.  '  Ex- 
actly,' says  he;  'it's  a  pler-^anter  topic  that,  and  the  con- 
templation of  the  dear  crittnrs  softens  our  naturs,  *^nec  sinit 
essefrros,'"  nor  suffers  us  to  he  ferocious.  Nothin'  tames  a 
mnn  like  a  woman.'  —  'I  guess  so,'  says  I.  *Yes,  my  son,' 
said  he,  '  get  married,  and  marry  soon  ;  it 's  time  you  were 
a-t1iinkin'  on  it  now  in  airnest.'  —  'Well,  I  feel  most 
plnguily  skeared,  minister,'  says  I,  '  to  try,  for  if  once  you 
get  into  the  wrong  hox,  and  the  door  is  locked  on  you, 
there  is  no  escape  as  I  see;  and,  besides,  women  are  so 
everlastin'  full  of  tricks,  and  so  cunnin'  in  hiden  *em  afore- 
hnnd,  that  it  *8  no  easy  matter  to  tell  whether  the  bait  has 
a  hook  in  it  or  not ;  and  if  you  go  a-playin'  round  it  and 
a-nibblin'  at  it,  why,  a  sudden  jerk  given  by  a  skilful  hand 
may  whip  it  into  your  gills  afore  you  know  where  you  be, 
and  your  flint  is  fixed  as  shure  as  there  are  snakes  in  Var- 
giny.  You  may  tug,  and  pull,  and  haul  back  till  you  are 
tired  ;  but  the  more  obstropolous  you  become,  the  faster 
the  hook  is  fixed  in,  and  the  sorer  the  place  is.  Nothin' 
a'most  is  left  for  you  but  to  come  up  to  the  line,  and  sub- 
mit to  your  fate.  Now,  if  you  go  for  to  take  a  widder, 
they  are  shocking  apt  to  know  too  much,  and  are  infarnal 
sly ;  and  if  you  take  a  maid,  it 's  an  even  chance  if  you 
do  n't  spile  her  in  breakin'  her  in,  and  she  do  n't  bolt  and 
refuse  a  heavy  pull.  If  they  are  too  old  they  are  apt  to  be 
headstrong  from  havin'  had  their  head  so  long ;  and  if  they 
are  too  young,  they  are  hardly  waywise  enough  to  be  pleas- 
ant. Which  now  do  you  recommend,  minister — widder  or 
maid  ?'  Poor  old  crittur !  I  knowd  well  enough  he  did  n't 
know  notl  about  it,  havin'  had  no  experience  among  wo- 
men any  more  nor  a  child  ;  but  I  axed  him  to  humor  him, 

6» 


''■■  '■'* 


I'^h 


Vn^ 


i  I 


114 


sJAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


'  i 


i!i  i! 


irv     ' 


\M 


wn 


for  most  men  I'ke  to  be  tliought  knowin'  on  that  subject. 

*  Why,'  aays  he,  a-lookJng  up  wiselike,  '  that 's  a  matter  of 
taste,  Sam  ;  some  prefers  one,  and  some  prefers  the  other.* 
(So  like  human  natur'  that,  warn't  it,  squire  ?  You  never 
heerd  a  man  in  your  life,  when  axed  about  woman,  say, 

*  That 's  a  subject  I  ain't  jit?t  altogether  able  to  speak  on,' 
and  yet  plaguy  few  know  mucn  more  about  'em  than  that 
women  wear  petticoats,  and  men  do  n't.)  ♦  It 's  quite  a  mat- 
ter of  taste,'  said  he ;  *  but,  as  far  as  my  experience  goes,' 
says  the  old  man,  •!  am  half  inclined  to  opinionate  that 
widders  make  the  best  wives.  Havin'  lost  a  husband,  they 
know  the  slender  tenure  we  have  of  life,  and  are  apt  to  be 
more  considerate,  more  kind,  and  more  tender,  than  maids. 
At  all  events,  there  is  enough  in  the  idea  to  put  them  on 
equal  tarms.  I  guess  it  *s  six  of  one  and  half  a  dozen  of 
t*  other,  not  much  to  choose  any  way.  But,  whichever  it 
be,  you  must  prove  their  temper  first  and  their  notions ; 
see  what  sort  o'  sisters  and  darters  they  make;  try  —  but, 
dear  me !  how  late  it  is,'  said  he,  a-lookin'  at  his  vi'.ch, 
-  how  late  it  is  !  I  must  go,  for  I  have  a  sick  visit.  I  .still 
visit  my  dear  lost  flov.k,  as  if  they  hadn't  a-used  me  so  ill, 
Sam.  I  forgive  them,  all  of  'em.  T  do  n't  iiaibor  any 
hard  thoughts  agin  any  of  them.  I  pity  'em,  and  always 
remember  'em  in  my  prayers,  for  our  religion  is  a  religion 
of  the  heart,  and  not  of  the  head,  as  political  dissent  is. 
Yes,  I  must  go,  now  ;  but  I  '11  give  you  a  word  of  advice 
at  partin',  my  dear  ^  "  Don't  marry  too  'poor  a  gall,  for 
they  are  apt  to  think  there  is  no  cend  to  their  husha^id's  puss  ; 
nor  too  rich  a  gall,  for  they  are  apt  to  remind  you  of  it  on- 
pimsant  sometimes  ;  nor  too  giddy  a  gall,  for  they  mghrt 
their  families ;  nor  too  demure  a  one,  for  they  are  most  apt 


It:  i 


MATRIMONY. 


115 


to  give  you,  the  doJge,  race  oJf\  and  leave  you;  jior  one  of  a 
(Jijferent  ssect,  for  it  breeds  discord  ;  uor  a  weak  minded  one, 
for  children  take  all  their  talents  from  their  mothers  ;  nor 
a — '  *  0  Lord  !'  Bays  I,  *  minister,  how  you  skeer  a  body ! 
Where  onder  the  sun  will  you  find  a  nonsuch  like  what 
you  describe  ?  There  ain't  actilly  no  such  critturs  among 
women.' — '  I '1?  tell  you,  my  son,'  said  he,  'for  I'd  like 
afore  I  die  to  see  you  well  mated ;  I  wouM,  indeed  I  I  *11 
tell  you,  tho'  you  talk  to  me  sometimes  as  if  I  did  n't  know 
nothin'  of  women.  You  think  nobody  can't  know  'em  hut 
them  ae  romp  all  their  days  with  them  as  you  do  ;  but 
them,  let  me  tell  you,  know  the  least,  for  they  are  only 
acquainted  with  the  least  deserving.  I  '11  gin  you  a  gage 
to  know  'em  by  that  is  almost  invariable,  universal,  infalli- 
ble. The  character  and  conduct  of  the  mother  is  a  sure  and 
certain  guaranty  for  t?iat  of  the  darter*  " 


. 


.i  ir 


Ife'li' 


CHAPTER   X. 


THE   WOODEN   HOSSE. 


mi 


No  perfion  on  entering  the  harbor  of  St.  John  for  the 
first  time,  could  suppose  that  it  was  the  outlet  of  one  of 
the  largest  rivers  on  the  American  continent,  as  it  is  in  no 
way  to  be  distinguished  in  appearance  from  any  of  those 
numerous  inlets  of  the  sea  that  render  the  coast  of  the 
British  provinces  everywhere  accessible  to  ships  of  the 
largest  class.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  gets  a  viev/  of  this 
noble  stream,  and  becomes  acquainted  with  its  magnitude, 
he  feels  that  Saint  John  is  destined  by  nature,  as  well  as 
the  activity  and  intelligence  of  its  inhabitants,  to  become 
the  next  largest  city  to  New  York  on  this  continent. 

"  Sensible  folks,  these  Brunswickers,"  said  Mr.  Slick ; 
"  rael  right  down  men  of  bisness,  and  no  miijtake.  They 
don't  take  it  all  out  in  talkin',  as  some  people  do.  If  they 
have  any  politics  to  do,  they  do  it,  as  they  load  a  vessel, 
as  fast  as  they  can  do  it  well,  and  a-done  with  it.  They 
are  jist  a  pattern  to  them  Canady  goneys  to  cut  their  gar- 
ment by,  if  they  had  the  sense  to  follow  it.  I  met  old 
Jeremiah  Sterling  this  mornin' ;  you  have  heerd  tell  of 
him,  squire  1  he  is  the  richest  man  in  the  city.     He  is  an 

0.  F.  M.,  as  we  call  Our  First  Men  among  us.     '  Well,'  says 

1,  *  friend  Jeremiah,  how  do  you  kinder  sorter  find  yourself 
to-day?* — 'Why,  kinder  sorter  middlin','  says  he,  'Mr. 
Slick ;  what  you  call  considerable  nimble  and  spry.    We 


I 


THK    WOODEN    HORSE. 


117 


are  gitten  on  well  here,  very  well,  indeed.  We  have  a 
good  many  'sponsible  men  grow'd  up  here  since  you  was 
this  way,  and  our  credit  is  good.  We  stand  No.  1,  letter 
A.'  —  'Well,'  says  I,  'if  it  is,  it  won't  be  that  way  long,  I 
can  tell  you ;  the  lep.s  you  talk  about  'sponsibility  the  bet- 
ter the  English  marchants  and  Wall-street  brokers  will 
trust  you,  I  know.'  —  'Why,'  says  he,  'what  on  airth  are 
you  a-talkin'  about  ?  I  don't  onderstand  you  ;  you  are  at 
your  old  trick  of  riddlin' ?'  —  'Why,'  says  I,  'responsible 
government,  to  be  sure.  Did  n't  you  say  you  had  a  good 
many  'sponsible  men  grow'd  up  here  lately?' — 'Well, 
that 's  notable,'  said  he.  '  Lawful  heart  if  that  don't  beat 
gineral  trainin' !  How  could  you  suppose  I  meant  such 
cattle  as  them  ?  No,'  says  he,  *  come  with  me,  and  I'll 
indicate  what  'sponsibility  is,  for  the  street  is  no  place  to 
talk  over  such  matters  in,'  and  he  took  me  into  his  countin* 
room,  and,  touchin'  a  spring,  opened  a  great  iron  door,  and 
then  onlocked  another  of  the  same  kind,  and  showed  me  a 
great  iron  safe,  on  wheels  like  a  gun-carriage.  Well,  it 
was  chock  full  of  doubloons  and  sovereigns,  and  splendid 
American  eagles ;  it  was  actilly  good  for  sore  eyes  to  look 
at  'em !  and  then  he  opened  another,  filled  half  way  up  to 
the  top  with  bank-paper,  notes  of  hand,  bonds,  and  mort- 
gages, and  stuff  of  that  kind.  He  stood  for  the  whole 
endurin'  space  of  five  minutes  a-contemplatin'  of  it,  without 
sayin'  of  a  word,  only  smilin'.  At  last,  says  he,  '  Slick,' 
(and  he  let  down  the  lid  with  a  slam  that  smelt  of  thunder) 
'  that 's  what  /  call  ^sponsihiUfy.  I  did  n't  airn  that  little 
lop  cf  specie  a-talkin'  over  2^olitics,  you  may  depend,  but 
talkin'  over  customers.  Your  'sponsible  men  want  no  in- 
dorsers,  do   you  twig?     Now,  who  has  most  interest  in 


:H 


118 


SAM   SUCK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGsi. 


Ill- 


I'"'    .  I 


fl 


i. 


Ml, I 


ifei  ii 


takin*  caio  of  that  '•  stake,"  that  it  don't  go  for  it  by  fire, 
or  sympathizers,  or  what  not  —  me,  or  that  are  chatterin', 
jawin'  watchman  of  mine  ?'  —  'Why,  you,'  says  I,  'you, 
of  course.'  —  'Exactly,'  says  he;  'and  so  it  is  in  politics. 
Them  critturs  that  race  about  like  a  runawarj  steamboat^  cal- 
liri'  '•''fire  !  fire  /"  and  dhturhin!  all  honest  folks  in  their  beds, 
cuss  'etn  !  they  have  nothi'n'  to  lose  by  a  fire  if  it  does  come : 
but  in  the  scramble  they  generally  find  somethin'  or  another 
to  2)ick  up  that  they  didii't  work  for.  Now  them  chaps, 
patriots,  Durliamites,  arsondaries,  and  what  not,  to  Canady, 
remind  me  of  our  engine-men.  Any  engine  that  gets  to  a 
fire  first,  if  it's  only  a  chimbly  a-blazin',  gets  five  pounds 
out  of  the  pockets  of  the  people.  Cryin'  fire  is  a  j^rofitable 
trade  in  more  things  than  one.^ 

"Jeremiah  was  right,  squire.  It's  a  pity  government 
ever  listened  to  colonial  agitators.  It  was  erroneous  con- 
siderable. It  would  have  been  better  for  England,  and 
better  for  the  colonies,  too,  if  they  had  n't,  and  that  they  '11 
find  some  o'  these  days,  or  my  name  is  not  Sam  Slick.  But 
John  wants  a  commission  o' lunacy  taken  out;  the  foolish 
old  crittur  actilly  seems  possest.  Concession  never  stopt 
agitation  since  the  world  was  firdt  squeezed  out  of  a  curd 
—  it  only  feeds  it.  Throwin'  sops  to  varmint  only  brings 
'em  back  agin  ;  and  when  you  have  nothin'  more  to  throw 
to  'em,  they  are  plaguy  apt  to  turn  and  tare  you  to  pieces. 
It  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  wooden  horse  to  Java. 

"  That  time  I  took  the  whalin'  trip,  we  stopt  to  Java : 
well,  jist  then  there  was  a  native  chief  there,  that  almost 
drove  the  Dutch  off  the  island.  He  cut  off  their  outposts, 
broke  up  their  settlements,  druv  away  their  cattle,  seezed 
their  galls,  and  kicked  up  a  regular  built  tornado.     The 


THE    WOODEN    HORSE. 


119 


Dutch  governor,  old  Vaiidam,  who  was  as  fat  and  heavy  as 
a  December  bear,  was  fairly  explunctified  :  he  did  ir.'t  know 
what  onder  the  sun  to  do.  He  was  in  a  most  awful  feese. 
All  he  could  say  when  people  came  with  news,  was  •  Tons- 
and  Teyvils ;'  and  the  chief  gave  him  news  enough  to  say 
it  all  day  long,  until  finally  the  outlaw-gentleman  went  by 
the  nickname  of  *  Tousand  Teyvils.'  At  last  the  governor 
took  a  tub  of  tobacco,  and  a  keg  of  good  hollauds,  and  a 
dozen  of  his  best  pipes,  and  shot  himself  up  in  his  castle 
for  two  whole  days  and  two  whole  nights,  to  study  the  ins 
and  outs  of  the  matter  alone  ;  •  For  talkin','  he  said,  'always 
put  him  out  like  a  wrong  figure  in  the  first  part  of  a  sum, 
and  he  had  to  go  over  it  all  agin  from  the  beginnin'.' 
Well,  at  the  eend  of  the  two  days  and  two  nights  the 
governor  opened  the  door  and  ordered  in  more  pipes  and 
more  skidam  and  schnap-glasses,  and  then  sent  for  his 
council,  and  nodded  to  them  to  set  down  ;  for  he  was  a  man 
of  few  words,  was  old  Vandam,  his  maxim  bein',  that  them 
that  talked  well  was  seldom  good  for  nothin'  else ;  and  the 
councillors  squatted  low  and  did  n't  say  a  word.  Then  he 
looked  at  the  liquor,  and  then  at  the  glasses,  and  the  servant 
filled  them  up  chock  full ;  and  then  he  looked  at  the  door, 
and  the  servant  went  out  and  shot  it  to  after  him.  A 
Dutchman's  eye  don't  often  speak  much  ;  but  when  it  has 
any  expression  in  it,  it  speaks  to  the  p'int,  you  may  depend. 
Well,  he  motioned  to  them  to  drink,  and  they  drank  off 
their  Hollands  and  smacked  their  lips :  for  if  his  liquor 
warn't  good,  I  want  to  know  whose  was,  that's  all.  *  Oh, 
mine  Cot !'  says  the  governor,  takin'  the  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  Icttin'  go  a  great  long  roll  of  smoke,  as  big  as 
what  comes  from  a  steamboat,  '  oh,  Goten  Hyramel !  I  have 


iamj^igg.g.g!!i"jjjji.|.!!ii 


120 


bAM    SLICK'S   SAYlNOa    AND    DOINGS. 


Ml 


l#'i..ti 


mi     :    li 


ii 


II 


ill  !, 


i    \ 


m 


got  one  idea,  and  you  shall  see  varte  you  shall  see;'  and 
he  winked  to  them  knowin'  like,  and  sot  dovn  again.  It 
was  a  long  speech  for  the  governor;  but  he  got  thro'  it,  for 
he  had  mado  up  his  mind  ;  and  when  once  a  Dutchman 
makes  up  his  mind,  I  have  always  observed  you  might  as 
well  think  of  turnin'  Niagara  as  turnin'  him.  Well,  the 
councillors  sot  there  awaitin'  for  the  governor  to  illuminate 
'em  on  the  subject  of  his  idea,  and  drank  and  smoked  till 
they  drank  and  smoked  all  that  was  placed  afore  them, 
when  the  council  always  broke  up.  And  when  they  rose 
to  go,  the  governor  shook  his  head  and  said  agin  —  'You 
shall  see  vaite  you  shall  see.*  Well,  next  day  I  was  woke 
up  by  a  most  riprorious  noise  in  the  street,  folks  beatin' 
diuins  and  blowin'  horns,  and  rattlin'  arms  and  all  sorts  of 
things  a'most;  so  I  jumps  out  of  bed  in  an  all-fired  hurry, 
and  ups  with  the  winder  and  outs  with  my  head.  '  Hullo  !' 
says  I,  •  what  in  natur"  is  all  this  to  do  about  ?  who  is  dead, 
and  what 's  to  pay  now  V  — '  Oh  !'  says  they,  '  there  is  some- 
thin'  wus  than  galls  in  the  bushes.  The  governor  comes 
out  to  the  head  of  his  army  to  fight  Tousand  Teyvils;* 
and  they  was  very  full  of  courage,  was  the  Dutch,  for  they 
was  more  nor  half  shaved  then.  Says  I  to  myself,  '  There 
will  be  sport  to-day,  see  if  there  ain't,  and  you  had  better 
go  and  see  the  fun.  So,'  thinks  I,  '  I  don't  much  care  if  I 
do  ;'  and  I  dresses  myself  as  soon  as  I  could  and  runs  down 
and  joins  them. 

"  It  was  a  most  mortal  hot  day,  and  people  actilly  sweated 
to  that  degree,  it  laid  the  dust :  indeed,  where  I  was,  in  the 
rear,  it  began  to  be  muddy  a  considerable  some.  I  actilly 
thought  I  should  a-died  with  the  heat,  it  was  so  brilein', 
and  was  beginnin'  to  repent  com  in',  when  orders  came  to 


THE   WOODEN    HORSE. 


121 


lialt;    juid  glad  enough  I  was  to  bear  'eui,  you  nuiy  de- 
pend. 

"  We  cainpt  near  a  most  a-beautiful  meddow  at  the  foot 
of  a  mountain,  with  good  shade  and  lots  of  nice  cool  water, 
jiud  we  turned  to  to  wash  and  make  comfortable.  Pres- 
ently the  horns  blew  a  long,  lively  blast,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  they  was  answered  by  another  from  the  mountain. 
Then  ten  mulet'  was  brought  out,  and  lo\ded  with  money 
and  goods  and  what  not ;  and  a  captain  and  his  guard  pro- 
ceeded with  them  to  the  mountains,  along  with  one  of  the 
councillors,  and  in  two  hours'  time  they  returned,  and  then 
a  gineral  salute  was  fired  by  the  whole  line,  for  they  had 
bought  a  peace  with  the  native  chief.  Every  one  was  de- 
lighted ;  they  not  only  nodded  to  each  other,  but  actilly 
spoke.  Some  said,  '  Goot,'  others  said,  •  Fary  goot,'  and 
sonic  hot-heated  young  fellers  said,  *  Tam  coot.'  Then  a 
report  came  *  Tousand  Tey  vils'  was  to  dine  with  the  gov- 
ernor; and  an  invitation  came  to  me,  as  representin'  our 
great  nation,  to  be  present  at  the  feed  too.  Well,  we  all 
formed  into  line  to  see  the  chief  that  people  was  so  afeerd 
on ;  for  no  one  knew  whether  he  was  man  or  devil,  no  one 
havin'  ever  dared  to  show  anything  but  a  back  to  him  ;  but 
he  kept  us  waitin'  for  ever  so  long,  for  great  men,  I  have 
obsarved,  always  arrive  late  at  dinner;  it  *s  only  common 
people  that  jist  come  to  the  time,  or  may  be  a  few  minutes 
before,  to  make  sure.  Well,  while  we  was  waitin',  the 
governor  goes  into  the  dinner-tent  to  see  all  was  right ;  and 
arter  walkin'  all  round  it  ever  so  slow,  he  turns  to  the  head- 
waiter  and  gives  a  grunt,  'Eu-gh,'  says  he,  which  is  tho 
Dutch  for  '  It  will  do  very  well,  I  am  satisfied  with  your 
airangements.'     It  is  a  beautiful  lauguage  for  a  hot  climate 


aaBBBBESSSB 


r,  1' 


ii  !;  1^ 

5        ;  '  I 


122 


SAM    SLICK'S   8AYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


like  Java,  is  the  Dutch,  so  little  of  it  goes  so  far.  It  is 
like  cayenne,  the  least  spoonful  in  t!ie  world  does  the  bis- 
ness.  Then  the  governor  says,  '  Casper,'  says  he  (that  was 
the  feller's  Christian  name,  and  it 's  very  odd  I  never  seed 
a  Dutch  sarvant  that  warn't  named  Casper)  —  says  he,  '  veu 
I  takes  out  my  noshe-viper  to  blow  my  noshe  after  mil  dog- 
guesser'  (which  is  low  Dutch  for  dinner,  'cause  it  sets  the 
dogs  guessing  and  barking  like  mad),  'that  is  a  shine  to 
you  to  do  varte  I  told  you  for  to  do.  Now,  if  you  neglects, 
my  coot  Casper,  then'  —  and  he  drew  his  finger  across  Cas- 
per's throat —  which  is  the  Dutch  for  sayiu' *  I  will  have 
your  head  cut  off.' 

"  Poor  Casper  lifted  up  his  hand  to  put  it  on  his  heart; 
but  he  was  so  tarnatioi;  frightened,  he  didr't  get  it  no 
higher  than  his  breeches  ;  and  thrustin'  it  into  his  pocket, 
which  was  big  enough  to  hold  a  quart  bottle,  he  bent  over 
it  and  bowed  down  to  the  ground,  which  is  the  Dutch  way 
of  say  in',  '  I  onderstaud  you,  old  boy,  and  will  take  devil- 
ish good  care  to  mind  my  eye  and  save  my  head.'  Jist 
then  the  guns  fired  a  salute,  which  was  a  sign '  Tousand 
Teyvils'  was  a-comin' ;  and,  sure  enough,  there  he  was,  a 
regular  snorter  by  buth  and  edication,  a  tall,  strappin*, 
devilish  handsome  feller,  with  a  cap  and  plumes  stuck 
sidewise  like  on  his  head.  Well,  as  he  marched  along  in 
the  double  line,  folks  seemed  as  amazed  as  if  they  was  jist 
born,  and  hung  back  like  as  if  it  was  Old  Scratch  himself 
agoin'  to  give  *em  a  taste  of  his  breed,  and  they  looked  as 
skeered  as  if  they  had  seed  a  rifle  lookin'  at  'em  eend  ways ; 
and  'Tousand  Teyvils'  curled  up  his  upper  lip,  jist  as  you 
have  seed  a  pugdog  do  his  tail,  with  a  slight  twitch  of  his 
nose,  too,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Ain't  you  a  pretty  set  of 


II' 


THE   WOODEN   HORSE. 


123 


mcnn-spirited  rnpscallions  to  come  and  buy  your  peace  like 
cowards,  instead  of  figlitin'  it  out  to  the  bat's  eend  like 
brave  men  ?  Cuss  you  !  you  han't  an  idea  above  your 
nasty,  muddy,  stinkin'  canals  and  flag-ponds ;  and  all  you 
care  lor  is  your  tarnal  schnaps  and  tobacco.  Phew,  you 
paltroons,  how  you  stink  of  sour  crout !' 

"  He  had  a  most  audacious  eye,  I  tell  you  ;  it  looked  ex- 
actly as  it  was  forged  out  of  lightnin' ;  it  warn't  easy  to  look 
into  it,  that's  a  fact.  It  seemed  to  say,  '  I  am  a  pickaxe, 
and  will  dig  you  out  of  your  hole  like  a  badger;  I  hope  I 
may  be  gouged,  if  I  don't.'  Well,  the  governor  advances 
two  steps  to  meet  him,  which  is  a  great  way  for  a  govern- 
or to  go,  especially  a  Dutch  one,  and  takin'  him  by  the 
hand,  and  bowin',  says  he,  'Mine  goot  frient  —  my  prave 
frient,'  and  then  he  suddenly  began  to  stop,  and  his  eyes 
swelled,  and  the  whole  expression  of  his  countenance  al- 
tered, and  the  water  came  to  his  lips,  and  he  began  to  lick 
his  chops,  as  if  he  was  a  boa-constrictor,  and  was  a-goin*  to 
slaver  him  for  swallerin'  whole. 

"  I  never  see  such  a  treacherous  face  afore.  *  Tousand 
Tevvils'  did  n't  seerh  to  like  it  nother,  for  he  cut  this  mum- 
mery  short  by  say  in',  '  How  am  you  was'  (for  he  did  n't 
speak  good  Dutch  at  all) — 'how  is  you  been,  my  old  bul- 
lock V  and  he  squeezed  his  cornstealers  till  the  old  gineral 
began  to  dance  like  a  bear  on  red  hot  iron. 

"  When  he  got  clear  of  him,  he  blowed  his  fingers  as  if 
they  was  scalded,  and  howled  and  moaned  like  a  wounded 
dog.  It  was  pitiable  to  see  him,  for  he  was  a  caution  to 
behold.  If  all  the  crooked  Dutch  oaths  he  muttered  that 
time  was  straightened  out,  they  'd  reach  across  the  Hudson, 
I  do  believe.     'Oh,  mine  Cot!'  says  he,  to  Casper,  who 


nt: 


124 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


If 

I  ill' 
I  i:  i 


j'it!  > 


',  ih 


iil    ': 


!i|8  :i  1; 


came  in  for  orders  (and  it  railly  did  seem  to  hurt  him  beau- 
tiful), '  how  shall  1  use  my  noshe-viper  1  I  can't  blow  my 
noshe  no  more  as  a  child,  my  nails  have  growd  one  whole 
inch  longer.  Varte  shall  I  do  ?  Est  iut  sharder'  (I  am 
sorry). 

"  Well,  arter  a  while  they  all  sot  down,  and  they  eat  and 
drank,  and  drank  and  eat,  till  all  was  blue  agin ;  they  fair- 
ly pulled  off  their  coats  to  it,  as  if  they  were  in  rael  wide- 
awake airnest ;  and  arter  the  cloth  was  removed,  says  the 
old  governor:  'Mine  hears'  (which  means  my  dummies,  or 
fellers  that  hear  but  don't  speak),  mine  hears,  fill  your 
glasses.'  Well,  they  all  filled  their  glasses,  and  rose  up. 
'I  have  von  toast,'  said  he,  •  ahem  !'  and  he  took  out  his 
noshe-viper  (which  is  the  Dutch  for  a  pocket-handkerchief) 
and  tried  to  blow  his  nose,  but  he  could  n't,  for  his  fingers 
were  all  lame,  they  was  crushed  so ;  and  then  he  took  his 
left  hand  that  warn't  squeezed,  and  you  may  depend  that 
are  wind-instrument,  his  nose,  let  go  in  great  style,  it 
sounded  like  a  conch-shell.  That  was  the  signal :  in 
rushed  Casper  and  the  guard,  and  come  down  on  poor 
*  Tousand  Teyvils'  like  follin'  stars,  and  tied  him  hand  and 
foot,  and  carried  him  in  old  Vandam's  carriage  down  to 
town,  and  rowed  him  off  to  a  fortified  rock  at  some  distance 
from  the  land,  where  they  imprisoned  him  like  Lonaparte, 
and  where  he  is  livin'  to  this  day  chained  like  a  dog.  Fact, 
I  assure  you.  '  Coot,  farry  coot,  tarn  coot  trick,'  the  com- 
pany all  said  agin ;  and  then  they  turned  to  smokin'  and 
drinkin'  till  all  was  blue  agin.  They  did  n't  get  drunk, 
tho'  they  had  a  considerable  of  a  muddy  time  of  it,  too,  be- 
cause nothin'  will  make  a  Dutchman  drunk ;  but  they 
sucked  in  the  gin  till  they  could  n't  move  hand  or  foot,  or 


'!',(■  I 


THE   WOODEN    HORSE. 


125 


hear,  or  see,  or  spenk,  but  sot  bolt  upright,  starin'  and 
gaj)in'  like  a  house  with  the  windurs  and  doors  knocked 
out.  Now,  instead  of  bein'  ashamed  of  such  a  nasty,  dirty, 
unperlite,  sneakin'  trick,  as  that  they  played  poor  '  Tou- 
snnd  Teyvils,'  they  boasted  of  it ;  for  nothin'  ever  I  seed 
made  a  Dutchman  ashamed,  except  forgettin'  to  carry  his 
bag  of  tobacco. 

•"Tarn  dat  old  tief!  dat  "  Tousand  Teyvils,'"  said  the 
old  governor  (and  he  blarted  like  a  calf  jist  weaned,  as  if 
somethin'  was  tiie  matter  of  him  ;  but  what  can  you  expect 
of  a  Dutchman  ?).  '  Ich  rharter,'  which  is  the  Dutch  for  I 
guess :  •  Ich  rharter,  when  he  next  has  de  high  favor  to 
shake  hands  mid  a  governor,  he  don't  squeeze  his  hand 
like  von  lemon  :'  and  they  all  said,  '  Ach  yaw !'  which  is 
the  Dutch  shorthand  way  for  sayin',  '  That  is  a  capital  joke 
of  his  highness  the  governor.'  Well,  there  was  great  re- 
joicin'  to  Java  over  this  bloodless  victory,  and  the  governor 
ordered  a  pint  of  gin,  a  pound  of  tobacco,  and  two  pipes,  to 
be  sarved  out  to  each  soldier  in  camp  for  his  bravery  ;  and, 
two  days  arterward,  there  was  a  grand  review  of  the  Dutch 
army.  Pretty  lookin'  soldiers  they  were,  too,  squFre,  it 
would  have  made  you  died  a-larfin'  to  have  seed  them. 
Either  they  had  fell  away  greatly  in  that  hot  climate,  or 
had  n't  fatted  up  as  they  intended  to  do  afore  they  died, 
for  their  trousers  hung  so  loose  on  'em  they  could  have 
stowed  away  their  knapsacks,  'coutrements  and  all,  in  'em, 
instead  of  cavryin'  them  on  their  backs,  Howsumdever, 
they  was  satisfied  ;  and,  if  they  was,  seein'  that  they  had 
to  carry  thorn,  and  not  me,  I  did  n't  see  as  I  had  any  riglit 
to  find  fault,  do  you?  for  my  rule  is  to  let  every  man  skin 
his  own  foxes.     Well,  they  marched,  and  counter-marched. 


m 


ii 


;,: ' 


lit 


1;- 


iili!     i! 


It  t 


126 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOH.'OS. 


and  fired,  and  nil  tliat  are  Bort  of  work,  jist  as  if  they  was 
in  airnest ;  and  tlie  boys  shoutod,  and  tlio  women  smiled, 
and  tlie  blackH  grinned,  and  all  went  on  swimmingly,  like 
a  lionse  a-fire.  Presently,  a  great  heavy  piece  of  ordnance 
was  fired  off,  and  a  booth  was  thrown  open,  and  out  came 
a'moHt  an  almighty  big  wooden  boss,  a  London  brewer's 
shafter  would  n't  make  the  smallest  part  of  a  circumstance 
to  him.  lie  had  a  splendiferous  saddlecloth,  that  nearly 
covered  his  body,  all  trimmed  with  gold,  and  a  bridle  all 
of  polished  worked  steel,  reins  and  all ;  and  lie  was  led  by 
ten  s(ddiers,  live  on  one  side  and  five  on  the  other,  and 
mounted  by  a  native  rider  superbly  clad.  His  very  jacket 
must  have  cost  enough  to  set  up  a  common  man  like  me  in 
the  world.  The  boss  looked  so  big  and  so  fierce  you'd 
think  these  ten  men  couldn't  hold  him  ;  but  as  he  was  on 
wheels,  I  guess  they  pulled  him  instead  of  holden  of  him. 
Well,  every  now  and  then,  the  boss,  that  had  machinery  in 
it,  would  up  head  and  snort  and  neigh,  just  like  natur',  and 
out  came  gingerbrend,  and  tarts,  and  sagar-candy,  and  fruit, 
and  all  sorts  of  good  things.  Such  a  scramble  you  never 
did  see;  fellows  tumblin'  bead  over  heels,  and  fighting  and 
qu'ir  'ing  for  a  share  of  the  goodies.  Well,  then,  he'd 
prog.  j;jP  a  little  a-further,  and  then  go  thro'  the  same 
menouvres,  and  move  his  head  as  exact  like  a  live  boss  as 
ever  you  did  see  in  all  your  life,  and  then  came  the  pure 
gin.  Oh,  dear,  it  was  as  good  as  a  play  to  see  them  hold- 
in'  their  bands,  cocoa-nut  shells,  and  hats,  to  catch  the 
liquor  as  it  came  from  the  boss. 

"  Rojoicin',  like  everything  else  in  the  world,  must  have 
an  eend  at  last  (and  Dutch  rejoicin'  don't  last  long  at  any 
time,  as  far  as  ever  I  seed,  especially  when  there  ain't  no 


II,.  nil  i;'^' 
'  ill  iiii. 


THE   WOODEN    HOBSB. 


127 


smokin'  in  it),  and  so  clid  their  review.  The  people  ah 
wont  liome  pleased.  The  wooden  hoss  was  a  grand  idea. 
It  was  worked  out  by  General  Vandam  himsalf,  that  time 
he  shot  himself  up  in  his  castle  for  two  whole  days  and  two 
whole  nights,  a-studyin'  over  this  matter  of  •  Tousand  Tey- 
vils  ;'  and  kIjows  plain  enough,  to  my  mind,  that  a  Dutch- 
man can  think,  arter  all,  if  you  only  give  him  time  enough. 
"  The  day  arter  the  review  I  walked  out  over  the  exer- 
cisin'  ground,  and  there  lay  the  poor  old  hoss,  with  iiis  ribs 
broke  in,  his  body  ripped  up,  and  his  tail  pulled  out.  "While 
I  was  mubin'  over  the  fate  of  the  hoss,  who  should  I  see 
but  a  little  nigger  boy;  So,  says  I,  '  Come  here,  you  little 
imp  of  darkness,  you  spawn  of  the  old  one,  you,  and  tell 
nie  how  this  is?  Is  "Tousand  Teyvils"  loose  again? 
Who  killed  the  governor's  hoss?' — 'Why,'  says  he, 
'  iriassa'  (for  he  spoke  very  good  English,  as  he  lived  as 
help  to  a  gentleman  that  kept  a  bumboat),  '  him  Dutch- 
man corned  here  last  night  in  crowds  with  carts  and  hogs- 
heads and  kegs,  and  they  got  old  hoss  and  patted  him,  and 
*' soff-sawdered"  him'  (you  know  dat  word,  massa,  him  Yan- 
kee word,  all  same  as  blarney).  *  Yes,'  says  I,  *  I  have 
heerd  tell  of  him  afore.*  — '  Well,  they  coaxed  him  :  Come, 
good  hoss  ;  beautiful  hoss  ;  a  little  drop  more  &l(idam  ;  dat 
is  good  hossy  ;  a  little  more  sweatmeat,  dat's  a  pretty  hoss  I 
Well,  dey  holdy  up  his  head,  and  lift  up  him  tail ;  but  no, 
dat  no  go  —  hossy  no  gib  any.  At  last  him  Dutchmen  get 
angry.  "Dunder  and  blitzen  !"  he  say,  "if  you  no  gib 
liiin  by  fair  means  you  gib  him  by  foul;"  and  wid  dat  dey 
fall  to  and  rip  him  up,  to  see  what  is  in  him.  Well,  massa, 
you  see  dem  old  iron  chains,  and  rusty  wheels,  and  dem 
ugly  pipes.     Well,  dat  is  all  dey  found  dere.     Den   dey 


It 


w 


K 


i'lil 


•I'i 


m 

m 
I 


iif 


lis:.  1 


•  '.   ! 


if. 


128 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYIN(;S   AND   DOINGS. 


turn  to  and  n\n\ie  old  gobernor  like  sin.  "  Tam  old  gin- 
cral,"  doy  say;  "he  one  old  big  coward,  one  '  Erbarm- 
liek  !'  "  (dat's  Dutch,  massa,  for  awful  bad)  "one  Erbarm- 
liolc  rlicat !  *  Tousand  Teyvils'  worth  a  hundred  such  old 
fools  and  knaves  !  Ho  no  sold  a,  that."  Oh,  massa,  noting 
a'most  was  too  bad  for  him  tongue  to  say  of  old  gobernor.' 
—  'Well,'  says  I,  'here's  sixpence  for  you,  you  young 
suckin'  Satan,  you;  now  make  yourself  scarce;'  and  he 
scamju'red  off  as  snwirt  as  a  two-year  old. 

"Ko'.v,  squiic,"  said  the  clockmaker,  "it's  a  considerable 
of  a  long  story  that,  and  1  most  afeerd  I  have  tired  you; 
but  Jo/in  Bull  and  his  Colony  Patriots  remind  me  of  them 
Dutchmen  and  their  Avooden  horse.  As  long  as  he  will 
neigh  and  whinner  and  hold  up  his  head,  and  give  *em 
cakes  and  candy  and  sweetmeats  to  eat,  and  skidam  to 
drink,  thoy  are  full  and  runnin'  over  with  praises  and  pro- 
fessions of  loyalty ;  but  as  soon  as  he  stops,  then  those 
same  patriots,  those  Mackenzies  and  Papineaus,  and  devils, 
have  knifes  ready  to  rip  him  up.  John  Bull  don't  know 
Olid  don't  valt/  his  rnt'l  friends  enough.  All  are  well  dis- 
posed to  him,  except  them  noisy  critturs  that  run  about,  as 
old  Jeremiah  says,  cryin',  *  fire,  fire  !'  but,  cuss  him,  he  is 
so  near-sighted  he  never  sees  a  whip  till  he  feels  it.  The 
ro'?lly  loyal  people,  like  raelly  religious  people,  don't  talk  of 
it  for  everlnstinly.  They  seldof?i  make  professions,  unless 
rolled  for,  and  a  nit  found,  rehellin''  like  patriots,  even  when 
provoked.  Their  loyalty  han't  a  condition  to  it  like  a  mort- 
gage. It  ain't  cupboard  love,  like  that  of  the  Dutchman  to 
the  Woodrn  Iforse." 


I'll!'..' 


THE  BAD    SHILLINCi. 


129 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THK    BAD   SHILLING. 


It  was  late  at  night  -when  we  arrived  at  one  of  the  fron- 
tier towns  of  the  state  of  Maine,  which,  to  avoid  local 
offence,  I  shall  designate  as  Quimbagog.  There  was  so 
much  noisy  disputation  relative  to  politics  and  religion  in 
the  coffee-room  of  the  inn,  that  I  retired  early  to  bed,  with 
a  oad  headache,  and  not  without  some  misgiving,  that  by 
visiting  Maine  first  I  had  entered  the  states,  to  use  an  ex- 
pression of  the  clockmaker's,  by  the  wrong  door.  In  order 
that  the  rketch  which  I  am  now  about  to  give  may  be  fully 
understood,  it  may  be  necessary  to  request  the  reader  to 
recollect  that  Mr.  Slick  is  a  Yankee,  a  designation  the  origin 
of  which  is  now  not  v-ry  obvious,  but  it  has  been  assumed 
by,  and  conceded  by  common  consent  to,  the  inhabitants 
of  New  England.  It  is  a  name,  though  sometimes  satiri- 
cally used,  of  which  they  have  great  reason  to  be  proud, 
as  it  is  descriptive  of  a  most  cultivated,  intelligent,  enter- 
prising, frugal,  and  industrious  population,  who  may  well 
challenge  a  comparison  with  the  inhabitants  of  any  other 
country  in  the  world ;  but  it  has  only  a  local  application. 

The  United  States  cover  an  immense  extent  of  territory, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  different  pjirts  of  the  Union  differ  as 
widely  in  chavacter,  feelings,-  and  even  in  appearance,  as 
th3  people  of  different  countries  usually  do.  These  sections 
differ  also  in  di.'ilet't  and  in  luunor  ns  uuich  as  in  other  things. 


■'s'l  I 


m 


130 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


m 


,"l 


f'iiii 


\W 


III ' 


and  to  as  great,  if  not  a  greater  extent,  tliar.  ihe  natives  of 
different  parts  of  Great  Britain  vary  from  each  otlier.     It 
IB  customary  in  Europe  to  call  all  Americans,  Yankees  ;  but 
it  is  as  much  a  misnomer  as  it  would  be  to  call  all  Euro- 
peans, Frenchmen.     Throughout  these  works  it  will  be  ob- 
served, that  Mr.  Slick's  pronunciation  is  that  of  the  Yan- 
kee, or  an  inhabitant  of  the  rural  districts  of  New  England. 
His  conversation  is  generally  purely  so ;  but  in  some  in- 
stances  he    uses,  as  his  countrymen  frequently   do  from 
choice,  phrases  which,  though  Americanisms,  are  not  of 
eastern  origin.     Wholly  to  exclude  these  would  be  to  vio- 
late the  usages  of  American  life  ;  to  introduce  them  oftener 
would  be  to  confound  two  dissimilar  dialects,  and  to  make 
an  equal  departure  from  the  truth.     Every  section  has  its 
own  characteristic  dialect,  a  very  small  portion  of  which  it 
has  imparted  to  its  neighbors.     The  dry,  quaint  humor  of 
New  England  is  occasionally  found  in  the  West,  and  the 
rich  gasconade  and  exaggerative  language  of  the  West  mi- 
grates not  unfrequently  to  the  east.     This  idiomatic  ex- 
change is  perceptibly  on  the  increase.     It  arises  from  the 
travelling  propensities  of  the  Americans,  and  the  constant 
intercourse  mutually  maintained  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
different  states.     A  droll  or  an  original  expression  is  thus 
imported  and   adopted,  and,  thougli  indigenous,  soon  be- 
comes engrafted  on  the  general  stock  of  the  language  of 
the  country.     In  using  the  term  "  language  of  the  coun- 
try," I  mean  that  of  the  classes  in  humble  life,  of  which 
Mr.  Slick  is  a  member,  as  I  hope  I  have  never  been  so  mis- 
understood as  to  render  it  necessary  for  me  to  say,  that  1 
have  no  intention  of  imputing  these  idioms  to  any  other. 
This  explanation,  while  it  accounts  for  rn  erratic  man,  like 


I 


THE   BAD    yiIiLLlN(i. 


1:J1 


Mr.  Slick,  occasionally  using  some  few  phrases  which  are 
not  native  Yankeeisms,  will  enable  the  reader  the  better  to 
understand  the  diflFerence  between  the  plebeian  of  the  West 
and  the  East,  as  exhibited  in  the  following  sketch  : — 

During  the  stroll  after  breakfast  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Slick  said,  "  Did  you  never  mind,  squire,  how  hard 
it  is  to  get  rid  of  *  a  bad  shillin','  how  everlastin'ly  it  keeps 
a-comin'  back  to  you  ?"  I  said,  "  I  had  never  experienced 
any  diflSculty  of  that  kind,  never  having  endear  ored  to  pass 
one  that  I  knew  was  spurious."  —  "  No,  I  suppose  not,"  said 
he,  •'  because  you  are  a  careless  kind  of  a  man  that  way, 
and  let  your  shillin's  desart  oftener  than  they  had  ought  to. 
But  what  would  I  have  been,  had  I  been  so  stravagant? 
and  as  to  passin'  bad  money,  I  see  no  harm  in  it,  if  you 
have  given  valy  for  it,  and  received  it  above  boord  hansum, 
in  the  regular  way  of  swap,  trade,  or  sale.  Cheatin'  is 
givin'  a  thing  of  no  vab'  for  somethin*  that  is.  Now,  a  bad 
shillin'  that  has  cost  you  as  much  as  a  good  one,  can't  be 
said,  no  how  you  can  fix  it,  to  be  a  thing  of  nc  valy. 
Spose  any  gentleman  that  keeps  a  pike  was  to  give  you  a 
bad  shillin'  in  change,  you  would  have  a  right  to  pass  it 
then,  cause  it  had  cost  you  a  shillin'.  The  odds  make  the 
difference  —  do  you  take?  I'd  like,'  he  continued,  'to  go 
into  committee  with  you  on  that  matter  (as  we  used  to  say 
to  the  house  of  Rip's),  but  there  ain't  time  for  it  jist  now, 
as  the  pirate  said  to  the  hangman  when  he  was  a-tyin'  of 
the  knot.  Howsumdever  it  is  so.  I  fell  in  with  a  bad 
shillin'  last  night,  arter  you  went  to  bed,  that  1  thought  I 
had  parted  with  to  New  Orleans  five  years  ago,  for  ever. 
I  had  been  sittin'  down  talkin'  over  roads  and  travellin*, 
and  the  clearin's,  and  what  not  to  Nova  Scotia,  last  night, 


mm 

Hi 

.  "    T .  ■*■;  .■  • 

132 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINdS. 


M 


Hi' 


Ifi' 


ili'lilM 


i 


ii  i 


ii! 


i  Ii 


!  ;■ 

iiih 


:1l 


with  a  gentleman  that  owns  a  free-trader  to  Quimbagnp, 
tlie  Honorable  Lncifer  Wolfe.  I  misremembered  him  at 
first,  and  I  don't  think  I  filled  his  eye  chock  full  nother,  for 
he  fi!\Ytain-h/  did  n't  know  me  when  we  first  began  our 
pnlarver.  He  was  a  tall  innn,  over  six  foot  high,  all  bono 
and  muscle,  not  an  ounce  of  supeiy?Mous  flesh  on  him.  I 
seed  at  once  he  warn't  a  un/ire  of  Maine,  but  a  ringtnil 
roarer  from  the  West.  He  was  all  made  of  fox-traps  and 
bears-claws,  and  as  springy  as  a  saplin'  ash.  Havin'  been 
a  considerable  some  in  the  African  trade,  a  dealin'  in  nig- 
gers, he  was  very  swarthy  like,  wore  a  most  ungodly  pair 
of  whiskers,  and  had  more  hair  than  head,  tho'  that  was 
none  of  the  smallest  nother.  His  eyes  was  full  and  hawk- 
like, and  close  together,  but  they  squinted  awful ;  one  on 
'em  mounted  guard  on  his  tumbler  and  t'other  on  you,  as 
if  his  fightin'  and  drinkin'  liked  keepin'  company.  His 
nose  was  hooked  and  thin,  like  the  back  of  a  jacknife  ;  and 
a  scar  across  one  side  of  his  face  from  the  cut  of  a  sword 
or  a  boardin'-pike,  made  the  plumb  part  of  his  cheek  to 
scuttle  down  to  the  level  of  his  jaw,  and  gave  liim  a  very 
savage  kilniferous  kind  of  look.  He  wore  his  neckcloth 
loose  like  a  sailpr's,  which  showed  a  rael  bull-dog  neck; 
and,  as  he  turned  his  head  on  its  hinges,  you  could  see  the 
silver  hilt  of  a  bowie-knife  that  laid  hid  onder  the  cape  of 
his  coat,  ready  for  use,  I  could  n't  help  a-thinkin'  of  Sistor 
Sail  when  I  seed  it,  for  she  used  to  say  she  liked  things 
that  appealed  to  the  heart.  T  wonder  whether  she'd  call 
a  bowie-knife  pathetic  or  not,  for  few  things  sink  as  deep 
as  they  do.  Then  the  two  large  padded  flaps  like  watch- 
pockets  to  his  frock-coat,  showed  pistols  was  concealed 
there.     His  shirt  had  two  or  throe  large  gold  brooches  in 


THK    BAD   SHILLING. 


133 


it.  .'iiul  a  chain  of  the  same  genuine  material,  as  tliick  as  a 
gall's  finger,  was  suspended  round  his  neck  as  a  watch- 
guard,  and  his  waistcoat  was  made  of  spotted  calf's  skin, 
t.uniod  with  the  hair  on,  and  the  shaggy  side  showin'  out. 
lie  looked  half-landsman  half-seaman,  with  a  strong  dash 
of  the  tire-eater.  Altogether  he  was  a  caution  to  look  at, 
lli.'it's  a  fact.  All  at  once  he  recollected  my  phiz,  «>nf' 
junipin'  up  and  catchin'  hold  of  my  hand,  which  ne 
squeezed  as  if  it  was  in  a  vice,  he  roared  out  — 'Why  it 
ain't  possihle!'  said  he.  'Lawful  heart  alive,  if  that  airn't 
you !  Where  on  airth  did  you  spring  from,  since  you  gin* 
over  livin'  whar  you  used  to  did  ?  Whar  do  you  lead  your 
lite  now?  Why,  you  have  become  quite  a  big  bug  lately 
by  youi  writin's :  penmanship,  I  take  it,  is  a  better  bisness 
than  clockniakin' ;  but  come,  let's  liquor;  I  want  to  wet 
up ;  the  sight  of  an  old  friend  warms  my  heart  so,  it  makes 
my  lips  dry.  What  will  you  have  ?  cocktail,  sling,  julip, 
sherry  cobbler,  purl  talabogus,  clear  sheer,  or  switchell  ? 
name  your  drink,  my  man,  and  let's  have  a  gum-tickler, 
for  old  acquaintance,  somethin'  that  will  go  down  the  throat 
like  a  greased  patch  down  a  smooth  rifle.'  —  'Well,'  says  I, 
'  I  am  no  ways  pitikilar ;  suppose  we  have  brandy  cocktail, 
it's  as  'boLt  as  good  a  nightcap  as  I  know  on.'  —  'Done,* 
said  he,  with  a  friendly  tap  on  the  shoulder  that  nearly 
dislocated  my  neck ;  '  I  like  a  man  that  knows  his  own 
mind.  Most  of  our  folks  make  as  much  fuss  about  choosing, 
as  if  their  throats  had  any  taste  in  them,  and  they  actilly 
know  the  difference ;  but  they  don't,  that 's  a  fact.  New 
England  rum  takes  the  skin  clean  off,  and  they  can't  taste 
nothin'  that's  weaker.  I  '11  go  and  speak  for  it  to  one  of 
the  gentlemen  to  the  bar.'     With  that  he  swiggled  his  way 


134 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


fei :': 


tliro'  the  crowd  to  the  counter,  and  says  he,  '  Major,'  says 
he,  '  I  guess  you  may  let  one  of  your  aidy-conks  bring  us  a 
pint  of  cocktail,  but  let  it  be  letter  A,  No.  1,  and  strong 
enough  to  loosen  the  hinges  of  a  feller's  tongue.'  Well, 
we  sot  down  and  chatted  away  till  we  finished  our  liquor, 
and  now,  says  he,  '  Slick,  answer  me  a  few  questions,  that's 
a  good  feller,  for  I  am  a  free-trader  now.  I  have  ^ot  a'most 
an  angeliferous  craft,  a  rael  screemer,  and  I  'm  the  man  that 
sez  it.  The  way  she  walks  her  chalks  ain't  no  matter. 
She  is  a  rigilar  fore-and-after.  When  I  hoist  the  foresail 
she  is  mad,  and  when  I  run  up  the  mainsail  she  goes  ravin' 
distracted  I  can  beat  her  up  the  harbor,  when  there  is 
rips,  raps,  and  rainbows,  under  her  bow ;  ay,  walk  her  like 
a  lady  right  into  the  wind's  eye.  Chips  !  chips !  and  they 
know  it  a-bed.  Heavens  and  airth  !  jist  lookin'  at  her  will 
take  away  the  breath  from  them  white-livered,  catfish- 
mouthed,  dipt-candle  lookin'  scoundrels,  the  Brunswickers. 
She  goes  right  on  eend  like  a  rampin'  alligator.  She  '11  go 
so  quick  she  'II  draw  their  wind  out :  go  ahead !  cock-a- 
doodle-doo  !'  And  he  crowed  like  a  rael  live  rooster.  *  Go 
ahead,  steamboat — cock-a-doodle-doo!'  and  he  smashed 
my  hat  in,  most  ridikilous,  over  my  eyes,  a-flappin'  so  with 
his  hands,  like  wings.  It  was  a  caution  to  see,  that's  a 
fact.  *  Now,'  said  he,  *  Slick,  my  bully,  I  think  I  see  a 
smart  chance  of  doin'  a  considerable  stroke  of  business  to 
Nova  Scotia,  in  the  smugglin'  line. 

"  *  Is  it  true  the  British  have  made  Hudson,  in  Nova 
Scotia,  a  free  port?'  —  *  It  is.' 

" '  Is  it  true,  that  from  Parsboro',  at  he  head  of  the 
basin  of  Minas,  up  to  Windsor,  it  is  thirty-five  miles?'  — 
'  It  is.' 


J    '!l^ 


^mmm^ 


iif 


THE   BAD   SHILLING. 


135 


"  *  Is  it  true  the  tide  runs  out  so,  you  can  lay  aground 
anywhar  you  darn  please,  on  the  mud-flats,  witlr  safety  V  — 
'  It  is.' 

" '  Is  it  true  you  ain't  bound  to  call  at  no  customhouse 
till  you  get  up  to  Windsor  V  —  'It  is.' 

" '  Is  it  true  they  can't  see  you  to  Windsor  till  you  come 
within  two  miles  of  it  ?'  —  •  It  is.' 

" '  Is  n't  Windsor  almost  clear  across  the  province,  no 
more  than  thirty-five  miles  from  Halifax  basin?' — 'It  is.* 

" '  Then,'  says  he,  a-givin'  me  a  most  powerful  slap  on 
the  thigh  with  his  open  hand,  enough  to  make  a  beefsteak 
tender  —  'then,'  said  he,  and  he  grinned  like  a  red-hot 
gridiron,  the  crittur  was  so  pleased,  '  I  defy  all  the  Blue- 
noses,  John  Bulls,  Brunswickers,  and  devils  that  ever  was, 
to  prevent  smugglin'.  Old  Nick  is  in  the  die  if,  in  thirty- 
five  miles  of  river  and  basin,  you  can't  find  an  honest  feller 
on  one  side  or  another  of  it,  near  whom  you  can  lay  aground 
by  accident  and  run  your  goods.  I  am  intarmined  to  fill 
that  are  country,  called  Nover  Scotiar,  with  smuggled 
goods,  as  full  as  a  dog  is  full  of  fleas,  ay,  and  as  hard  to 
be  cotched,  too,  as  them  nimble-footed  little  gentlemen  be. 
Ain't  the  British  awful  fools,  too  ?'  said  he ;  *  they  do  beat 
all ;  I  actilly  believe  they  are  the  biggest  fools  livin'  this 
day,  on  the  blessed  airth.'  —  'Well,'  says  I,  'I  won't  say 
they  are  jist  the  biggest  fools  nother,  for  them  are  colony 
cliaps  are  pretty  much  of  a  muchness  with  them,  six  of  one 
and  half  a  dozen  of  t'other,  and  no  great  to  choose  nary 
way.  But  the  next  time,  Friend  Wolfe,  clinch  the  argu- 
ment on  your  own  thigh,  that's  a  good  soul,  and  not  on 
niine,  for  I  feel  it  tingle  clean  away  down  to  the  tip  eends 
of  my  toes  ;  and  now  I  '11  tell  you  somethin'  you  ain't  axed 


7'.; 


1  j' 


130 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


ff 


P'"  ;::'!■       i 


i 


k  :    I 


«:i;ii' 


1.1:11; .    '  ■ 


ll  i 

ill'  ':" 


I'ailii 


yet,  for  you  don't  know  all  things,  cute  as  you  bo.  Tliey 
used  to  have  to  the  east,  when  I  fust  knowd  it,  an  excise 
oflScer  and  a  customhouse  officer  to  each  port ;  now,  I  hear 
it  is  talked  of  to  have  one  man  to  do  the  work  of  both 
('cause  savin'  is  popular),  and  he  will  be  kept  so  busy  he 
won't  have  time  to  leave  his  home  one  etarnal  minit,  so 
there  won't  now  be  no  customhouse  at  all  in  a  manner,  and 
that  only  for  form's  sake^  It's  a  free  trade  now,  a'most, 
and  we  are  a-goin'  to  have  the  whole  supply  afore  long,  see 
if  we  ain't ;  and  one  thing  I  have  often  remarked,  Yankee 
trade  brings  Yankee  notions.  All  we  got  to  do  is  to  be 
quiet.  They  call  all  change  reform,  them  fellers;  it's  a 
sort  o'  party  catchword  they  I'arnt  from  the  English,  and 
all  changes  they  make  will  help  us  and  hurt  them.'  — '  The 
devil  a  hair  I  care,'  says  Lucifer,  '  what  they  do.  1  am  no 
politician,  and  I  hate  politics.  I  am  no  great  hand  at  ma- 
kin'  laws ;  but  one  thing  I  do  pride  myself  on  :  I  never 
seed  the  law  yet  that  could  tie  my  hands,  for  I  am  a  regu- 
lar scroudger  :  I  can  slip  them  thro'  any  clauses  you  please. 
Build  up  four  square  walls  of  laws  round  me,  and  I  '11  whip 
thro'  the  keyhole.  The  way  I  '11  run  goods  into  that  are 
country  is  a  caution  to  steamboats  and  railroads,  and  them 
plaister-diggin*,  shingle-weavin',  clam-feedin'  Blue-noses, 
may  do  their  prettiest,  cuss  'em.  I'm  for  free-trade,  and 
them  that  wants  a  fleece  for  revenue  must  first  catch  the 
sheep,  that's  my  maxim;  and  if  he  is  cotched,  why,  then 
he  must  jist  submit  to  be  sheared,  that's  all,  for  bein'  such 
a  born  fool.  But  no  one  hadn't  better  go  foolin'  with  me, 
for  I've  got  a  loadin'-iron,  "  speechifier"  by  name,  that 
never  missed  her  man  since  Lucifer  Wolfe  owned  her. 
She'll  let  daylight  shine  thro'  some  o'  them  Bluc-noses,  I 


THE   BAD   SHILLING. 


137 


know,  so  they  can't  tell  a  sneeze  from  a  blow'd-up  boat, 
she's  so  quick  on  the  trigger.  I'm  a  good-natured  man, 
but  it  don't  do  to  rise  me,  I  tell  you,  for  it's  apt  to  make 
me  sour  in  hot  weather. 

'"But  come,'  said  he,  'that  cocktail  and  your  news  is 
considerable  excitin',  and  has  whetted  my  appetite  proper- 
ly ;  I  guess  I  '11  order  supper.  What  shall  it  be,  corn- 
bread  and  common  doin's,  or  wheat-bread  and  chicken- 
fixin's  1  But  we  must  fust  play  for  it.  What  do  you  say 
to  a  game  at  all-faurs,  blind-hookey,  odd  and  even,  wildcat 
and  'coon,  or  somethin'  or  another,  jist  to  pass  time  ?  Come, 
I'll  size  your  pile.'  — '  Size  my  pile!'  says  I,  'why,  what 
the  plague  is  that?  I  never  heerd  tell  of  that  sayin'  afore.* 
— '  Why,'  says  he, '  shell  out,  and  plank  down  a  pile  of  dol- 
lars or  doubloons,  of  any  size  you  like,  and  I'll  put  down 
another  of  the  same  size.  Come,  what  do  you  say?'  — 
'No,  I  thank  you,'  says  I,  'I  never  play.'  —  'Will  you 
wrestle,  then  V  said  he  ;  *  and  whosever  throwd  pays  the 
shot  for  supper.'  —  'No,'  says  I,  'since  I  broke  my  leg 
a-ridin'  a  cussed  Blue-noss  boss,  I  han't  strength  enough  for 
that.'  — '  Well,  then,  we  are  near  about  a  height,'  says  he, 
'I  estimate,  let's  chalk  on  the  wall,  and  whoever  chalks 
lowest  liquidates  the  bill.'  —  'If  it  warn't  for  the  plaguy 
rheumatiz  I  caught  once  to  Nova  Scotia,'  says  I,  *  a-sleepin* 
in  a  bed  the  night  arter  a  damp  gall  lodged  there,  I  think 
I  would  give  you  a  trial,'  says  I;  'but  the  very  thoughts 
of  that  fog'iiy  lieifer  gives  me  the  cramp.' 

"  I  jist  said  that  to  make  him  larf,  for  I  seed  he  was 
a-gettin'  his  steam  up  rather  faster  than  was  safe,  and  that 
he  could  jist  double  me  up  like  a  spare  shirt  if  he  liked,  foi' 
nothin'  will  take  the  wiry  edge  of  a  man's  temper  off  like 

6* 


138 


BAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


J'  If'"' 

ill*' 


i  I ; 

li 


lit'    ■!';;        ! 


ll  I 

■■','■!!' 


mi 


'iV'! 


li-: 


a  joke :  he  fairly  roared  out,  it  tickled  him  so.  •  Well,' 
says  he,  *I  like  that  idea  of  the  damp  gall;  it's  capital 
that:  it's  a  Jerusalem  bright  thought.  I'll  air  my  wife, 
Miss  Wolfe,  before  the  fire  to-night ;  I  hope  I  may  bo 
kicked  to  death  by  grasshoppers,  if  I  don't.  I'll  heat  her 
red-hot,  till  she  scorches  the  sheets.  Lord!  how  she'll 
kick  and  squeel  when  I  spread  her  out  on  the  close-horse. 
How  it  will  make  her  squinch  her  face,  won't  it  ?  She 
never  hollers  unless  she's  hurt,  does  Miss  Wolfe,  for  she  is 
a  lady  every  inch  of  her,  and  a  credit  to  her  broughter-up. 
A  damp  gall !  Come,  that's  good  !  it  accounts  for  some  of 
'em  bein'  so  wretched  cold.  But,  stop,'  said  he,  '  it 's  no 
use  a-sittin'  here  as  still  as  two  rotten  stumps  in  a  fog. 
I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do;  here's  two  oranges:  do  you 
take  one,  and  I  '11  take  the  other,  and  let  us  take  a  shy 
among  them  glasses  to  the  bar  there,  and  knock  some  o* 
them  to  darned  shivers,  and  whoever  breaks  the  fewest 
shall  pay  for  the  smash  and  the  supper,  too.  Come,  are 
you  ready,  my  old  coon  ?  let 's  drive  blue  blazes  thro'  em.' 
—  'No,'  says  I,  '  I 'd  be  sure  to  lose,  for  I  am  the  poorest 
shot  !n  the  world.'  —  'Poorest  shote,'  said  he,  'you  mean, 
for  you  have  no  soul  in  you.  I  believe  you  have  fed  on 
pumkins  so  long  in  Conne'ticut,  you  are  jist  about  as  soft, 
and  as  holler,  and  good  for  nothin',  as  they  be  —  what  ails 
you?  You  han't  got  no  soul  in  you,  man,  at  all.  This 
won't  do  —  we  must  have  a  throw  for  it.  I  don't  valy  the 
money  a  cent ;  it  ain't  that,  but  I  like  to  spikilate  in  all 
things.  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do:  let's  spit  for  it;'  and 
he  drew  his  chair  up  ever,  witu  mine.  'Now,*  says  he, 
*  bring  your  head  back  in  a  line  ivith  the  top-rail,  and  let 
go ;  and  whoever  spits  farthest  without  spatterin'  wins.' — 


'■.f 


TIIK   BAD    SHILLING. 


139 


*  Well,'  says  I,  'you'll  laugh  when  I  tell  you,  I  dare  say, 
but  I've  gin  up  spittin'  since  I  went  down  to  Nova  Scotia; 
I  have,  upon  my  soul !  for  nothin'  riles  them  Blue-noses 
more.  Spittin'  would  spile  a  trade  there  as  quick  as  thuu- 
der  does  milk.  I'm  out  of  prac</c<?.  They'll  swaller  any- 
thing, them  fellers,  they  are  such  gulls,  but  they  keep  all 
they  get ;  they  won't  let  out,  for  they  are  as  hard  as  the 
two  sides  of  a  grindstone.' — 'Well,  then,  what  the  plague 
will  you  do  V  said  he.  '  Why,'  says  I,  a-takin'  up  the 
candle,  and  a-yawnin'  so  wide  and  so  deep  you  could  hear 
the  watch  tickin'  thro'  my  mouth,  '  I  guess  I'll  go  to  bed,' 
says  I,  '  for  I  had  n't  the  leastest  morsel  of  sleep  in  the 
world  last  night.'  —  'Mr.  Slick,'  says  he,  a-risin' up  and 
a-clappin'  both  arms  a-kimber,  lookin'  as  fierce  as  a  wildcat, 
and  jist  crowin'  like  a  cock  agin,  'give  me  leaf  to  tell  you, 
Mr.  Sliqk,'  says  he,  '  that  you  are  no  gentleman,'  and  he 
showed  his  teeth  as  wicked  as  if  he  could  grin  a  nigger 
white.  '  I  never  said  I  was,'  said  I,  '  so  we  won't  quarrel 
about  that.'  —  '  But  I'm  not  a-goin'  to  be  balked  that  way,' 
said  he;  'you'll  find  me  jist  a  leetle  the  ugliest  colt  you 
ever  undertook  to  break ;  there  is  no  back  out  in  me,  for 
I'm  a  snappin'  turtle;  so  you'll  fight  or  play,  that's  flat, 
and  no  two  ways  about  it,  so  take  your  choice,  for  I  feel 
most  intirely  Avolfish  and  savagerous,  and  have  half  a  mind 
to  give  you  a  tickler  in  the  ribs  that  will  make  you  feel 
monstrous  amiable,  and  set  you  a-considerin',  I  tell  you.' 
Says  I,  '  Friend  Wolfe,'  for  I  seed  there  was  a  smart 
chance  of  a  row,  '  play  I  won't,  so  there  is  an  eend  of  that 
matter ;  and  as  you  are  agoiu'  to  embark  considerable  cap- 
ital in  the  smugglin'  line,  to  Nova  Scotia'  (and  I  put  my 
finger  on  my  nose  and  winked,  that  t,     'e  might  be  no  mia- 


§ 


140 


HAM   SLICK'K   SAYINOS    AND    DOINGS. 


i'   '. 


I, , 


Ni 


■'i'f.  i 


I 


take  about  what  I  meant),  •  I  gnesH  it  would  be  jist  about 
as  well  for  us  not  to  quarrel.  So  do  n't  kick  afore  you  are 
spurred — do  you  take?*  Lord,  it  laid  his  bristles  in  a 
minit,  that ;  for  the  crittur's  feelin',  like  some  people's  re- 
spectability, was  all  in  his  pocket.  '  Ah,'  said  he,  '  spoke 
like  an  honest  man,  that,  and  not  like  a  cussed  Yankee  ped- 
lar, and  they  ain't  no  better  than  an  onsarcumcised  Ingian, 
or  a  odoriferous  nigger.  There  is  some  sense  in  that ;  give 
us  your  flipper,  old  boy  ;  but  let 's  have  a  drop  of  wet  to 
drown  it.  I  never  sleep  well  unless  words  is  either  fought- 
en  out  or  washed  out,  and  grog  makes  me  feel  as  good-na- 
tured  as  a  sooped  eel.'  Lord,  how  glad  I  was  to  find  it 
takin'  that  are  turn,  for  I  was  actilly  in  a  piled-up  agony, 
and  the  chilly  ague  began  to  crawl  all  over  me.  Only 
thinkin'  of  fightin'  such  a  ring-tail  roarer  as  that,  nearly 
broke  two  of  my  ribs  short  off.  '  What  shall  it  be  V  said  I. 
— •  Apple  toddy,'  said  he.  *  Apple  toddy  then  let  it  be,' 
said  I ;  and  I  ordered  a  pint  o'  the  best,  and  so  we  slinged. 
Arter  discussin'  it  out,  we  parted,  on  the  best  possible  tarms, 
for  ever  I  hope  ;  hut  russ  them  bad  shillings,  they  are  always 
a-comin'  back  to  you  ;  there  is  no  gettin'  quit  u '  them  at  no 
rate,  for  they  won't  take  the  mitten  if  you  do  try  to  cut 
them. 

"  Such  is  the  loose,  good-for-not?un'  loafers,  cheats, 
smugglers,  and  outlaws,  squire,  the  BIi  e-noses  are  a-goin' 
to  have  among  them,  by  their  beautiful  free  ports,  for  the 
trade  won't  pay  regular  marchants,  and,  unless  I  am  much 
mistakend,  when  once  these  '  bad  shillin's'  are  imported 
they  '11  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  drive  them  out  of  circula- 
tion agin.  The  advantage  is  all  on  our  side.  The  reason 
why  Windsor  hasn't  growd  more  of  late  years  is,  they  have 


wm 


THE   BAD   SHILLING. 


141 


liatl  a  lot  of  poor  little  miserable  coasters,  that  either  did  n't 
know  the  way,  or  was  afraid  to  go  beyond  the  American 
lines,  so  Windsor  built  Eastport.     Now  they  have  got  big- 
ger vessels,  are  nipkin'  money  hand  over  hand  in  airncst, 
and  jist  as  they  have  got  it  to  work  right,  they  must  have  a 
reform  free  port,  and  give  the  carryin'  trade  to  us.     If  it 
warn't  that  puppies  can 't  see  till  they  are  nine  days  old, 
one  would  wonder  they  were  so  blind  ;  but  the  wust  of  it 
is,  they  are  plaguy  apt,  afore  they  find  their  sight,  to  get 
their  ears  cropt   and  their  tails  cut.     It  reminds  me  of 
father  and  Neighbor  Outhouse  Pipes.     Father  had  a  hun- 
dred acres  lot  in  the  rear  of  his  farm,  that  was  used  as  a 
pastur,  and  a  capital  one  it  was,  too,  well  watered,  well 
shaded,  and  well  covered  with  beautiful  white  clover,  and 
sweet  grasses,  and  what  not ;  but  it  cost  considerable  to 
keep  up  the  fence  round  it.     So,  said  he,  one  day  to  Out- 
house Pipes,  '  Neighbor,'  says  he,  '  that  partition-fence  costs 
a  great  deal  of  time,  money,  and  trouble,  every  year,  and 
poles  is  gittin'  almighty  scarce,  I  'm  a-most  afcerd  we  shall 
run  out  of  wood  afore  long,  suppose  we  pastur'  in  common, 
and  lei,  that  fence  down  ;    the   poles  would  do  for  other 
fences,  and  be  quite  handy.'  —  'Well,'  says  Pipes,  quite 
careless  like,  so  as  not  to  lot  father  see  how  pleased  he 
was — 'well,'  says  he,  *I  was  a-thinkin'  myself  it  would  be 
more  neighborly,  and  every  bit  and  grain  as  good,  too.     I 
don't  care  if  I  do.'     Well,  what  does  Outhouse  Pipes  do, 
for  his  stock  was  more  nor  twice  as  large  as  father's  — 
what  does  he  do,  but  turns  in  all  his  cattle,  hogs,   and 
sheep,   and    father's   pastur'  being   the  best,  they  all  in 
course  went  into  his  field,  and  when  dry  time  in  summer 
come,  his  tarnation-lookiu'  cattle,  cross  bull,  and  breachy 


t:  im 


¥'■ 


142 


RAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


I  f 
ill  I 


i\mi< 


ililij'' 


oxen,  'most  Avonied  all  father's  dairy-cows  to  death,  and 
finally  druv  'em  all  cut  into  the  township  barrens.  There 
never  was  no  findin'  them  when  you  wanted  them,  and  in 
a  little  while  they  fell  off  in  the  milk,  got  thin  and  mangy, 
and  looked  like  old  scratch.  Well,  bimcby,  father  got 
tired  of  this  fun,  an  "wanted  Outhouse  Pipes  to  fence 
again  on  the  division  line ;  says  he,  '  I  guess  you  have  eat 
sour  grapes,  and  your  son's  teeth  are  on  edge,  ain't  they  V 
lie  said  ■  it  warn't  reasonable  at  all  to  be  so  peskily  whim- 
sical and  crotchical ;  that  it  was  none  of  his  seekin'  to  pas- 
tur'  in  common ;  that  we  had  used  up  all  his  share  of  the 
poles,  and  didn't  know  where  to  get  any  more;'  and,  arter 
five  years'  'crastination,  vexation,  and  trouble,  father,  to 
eend  the  dispute,  went  and  pv;t  up  the  whole  line  himself, 
his  own,  and  Neighbor  Pipes's,  too.  '  Cuss  them  cattle, 
Sam,'  says  father,  '  they  have  done  me  more  nor  a  hundred 
pounds  damage,  but,  I  guess,  when  a  man  has  a  good  field 
of  his  owv,  containirC  all  lie  wants  in  the  way  of  feed,  shelter^ 
and  water,  he  had  IcHer  snug  up  his  fences  strong  and  tidy, 
and  keep  it  to  himsef  But  father's  trouble  warn't  eended 
so  eajsy  as  he  was  ?»-thinkin'  on.  Havin'  once  got  a  taste 
of  the  good  grass,  the  nasty  onruly  brutes  of  Outhouse's 
were  for  everlastiu'ly  a-breakin'  in  and  chasin'  our  beasts 
from  one  eend  of  the  pasture  to  the  other.  As  for  father, 
poor  old  soul !  he  spent  mosi  of  his  time  a-runnin'  and 
a-hollerin'  arter  them  stray  critturs,  and  drivin'  of  them 
out.  'Well,  if  this  don't  beat  the  bugs,'  he'd  say.  'What 
a  spot  o'  work  this  is  sar^anily.  They  are  like  a  bad  shit- 
lin\  them  breachy  devils,  you  can  't  get  rid  of  them  at  no 
rate.  Put  them  out  as  often  as  you  please,  they  are  for 
everlastln'ly  a-comin'  back  to  you.' 


TRADING   IN   BED. 


143 


'*  I  am  a-tliinkin',"  said  the  clockmaker,  "  the  Blue-noses 
will  find  that  arter  a  while,  usin'  the  trade  in  common  with 
us  is  like  father's  pastur',  their  neighbors  have  two  craft  to 
their  one  to  put  in  it,  and,  bein'  the  strongest  of  the  two, 
will  gradually  drive  them  off  altogether,  while  shutting 
them  out  again  is  easier  talked  of  than  done,  and  that 
when  actilly  debarred,  the  onruly  ones  will  occasionally 
break  in  and  cause  'tarnal  trouble  and  expense.  C/umging 
one  thing  for  another  is  not  always  reform,  as  they  have 
found  out  to  England  to  their  sorroin,  in  more  things  than 
one.  But  them  who  change  often  and  unnecessary,  are 
apt  sometimes  to  find  to  their  cost,  when  it's  too  late,  that 
they  have  incautiously  got  hold  on  *  a  had  shillin'.'  " 


CHAPTER   XII. 


TRADING    IN    BED. 


During  one  of  our  former  journeys  a  circumstance  oc- 
curred, that  I  did  not  understand  at  the  time,  but  which 
Mr.  Slick  now  explained  to  me.  0>i  our  return  from  Ches- 
ter in  Nova  Scotia  to  Windsor,  we  stopped  at  a  small  house 
on  the  roadside,  near  a  sawmill,  for  the  purpose  of  feeding 
our  horse,  and  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  whic''  it 
appeared  to  me  was  designedly  introduced,  relative  to  the 
stream  and  the  adjoining  timber-land,  Mr.  Slick  extolled 
the  "  water  power,"  "  mill-privilege,"  betten^ients,  and  con- 
venience and  value  of  the  place,  in  terms  of  such  extrava 


rip 


mm 


|: 


IB 


:^ 


''s 


I  ii'  ii  ^ 


'•ir'i 


I:    i 


144 


BAM    CLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


gant  praise,  tliat  the  owner  proposed  to  sell  it  to  him,  an 
offer  which  Avas  immediately  accepted. 

"You  sec,"  said  Mr.  Slick  to  him,  "I  ain't  jist  prepared 
to  pay  you  right  down  on  the  nail  in  hard  pewter,  not 
expectin'  any  such  trade,  but  '  /'//  bond  it;'  that  is,  do  you 
bind  yourself  in  a  bond  to  give  a  title,  upon  my  payin'  you 
five  hundred  pounds  within  two  years.  If  I  pay  it,  why 
then  the  land  is  mine  ;  and  if  I  don't  do  so,  why  there  is  no 
harm  done  :  you  take,  don't  you  ?"  —  "Well,  I  don't  know  as 
I  do,"  said  Blue-nose  (who  appeared  puzzled  at  this  novel 
mode  of  selling  property,  in  which  the  bond  was  to  be 
given  to  the  Avrong  man).  "  Why  don't  you  give  me  a 
bond,"  said  he,  "  for  the  purchase-money,  and  I'll  give  you 
a  deed?  I'll  trust  yoi/,  for  you  are  good  for  more  nor 
that."  —  "  Why,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  the  clockmaker.  "  It's 
altogether  for  your  advantage,  and  saves  trouble  anjd  ex- 
pense, you  see.  Accordin'  to  your  plan,  if  I  didn't  pay 
my  bond  when  it's  due,  why  you'd  lose  the  land :  now  this 
way,  you  don't  part  with  the  land  till  you  get  the  money ; 
for  you  hold  on  till  you  are  paid  and  finger  the  cash.  It's 
safer  and  better  for  yo?i,  and  I  must  say  I  do  like  a  fair 
deal.  So  now,  do  you  take  the  pen  and  write  the  bond 
yourself  to  prevent  mistakes,  and  I  will  tell  what  to  put 
into  it,"  The  bond  was  accordingly  written,  duly  executed, 
and  delivered,  and  we  proceeded  on  our  journey.  As  this 
transaction  had  taken  place  some  time  ago,  and  never  again 
been  referred  to  by  Mr.  Slick,  it  had  nearly  escaped  my 
memory;  but  the  opportunity  having  now  occurred  of 
making  an  advantageous  use  of  it,  he  unfolded  his  object 
without  reserve. 

"We  are  now,  squire,"  said  he,  "in  the  state  of  Maine, 


II  t: 


TRADING    IN    BED. 


145 


tlie  headquarters  of  land  spekilators,  and  I  '11  put  off  my  Chea- 
ter friend's  bond  to  an  advance.  I  never  had  no  notion  of 
buy  in'  that  are  feller's  land.  I  don 't  want  it  no  more  nor  my 
old  wagon'  does  a  fifth  wheel.  I've  been  spekilatin'  on  his 
capital.  If  I  don't  sell  the  bond,  I  lose  not'  in',  for  I  have 
j)aid  nothin' ;  if  I  sell  it,  I  gain  all  I  can  get  for  it.  It  is  one  of 
tlie  best  and  prettiest  mo'des  of  trading  I  know  on  ;  but  the 
ditlieultest  part  ib  all  to  do  yet,  and  that  is  so  sell  it.  Any- 
body can  put  the  leak  into  a  Blue-nose,  or  a  John  Bull,  for 
tluy  ai  -irimi^itTjUnsuspectin'  sort  of  folks,  not  jist  exactly 
up  to  snuff;  but  to  walk  into  a  downeast  land-jobber  re- 
quires great  skill,  I  tell  you,  and  a  very  considerable  knowl- 
edge of  human  natur',  and  of  business.  If  your  hook  aiu't 
well  covered,  and  the  bait  well  chose  and  suited  to  the 
season,  they  won'*  so  much  as  look  at  it.  If  you  pull  at  a 
nibble,  you  never  get  another  one,  for  there  is  nothin'  so  bad 
as  eagerness.  A  quick  eye,  a  steady  hand,  and  cool  temper, 
is  not  do-withoutable.     Tantalize  'em,  play  'em  on  and  off, 

laise  it  a  little  out  of 


sight  till  they 


t  and  smell  it,  then  jist 
0  to  look  for  it,  and  then  let  it  float  down 
strean.'  for  thei  :  loller,  and  when  they  get  to  it,  snub  it 
short  till  they  pa^.  ,  and  have  to  turn  back  and  make  up 
agin'  stream.  They  don't  see  so  clear  then  for  the  drift 
stuff,  air-bubbles,  and  what  not ;  and  when  you  find  them 
makin'  right  at  it  full  split  with  their  mouths  open,  slacken 
up  a  little,  and  jist  as  they  snap  at  it,  draw  it  forward  an 
inch  or  so,  and  then  rest  a  bit.  The  next  grab  they  make 
they  will  tjike  in  the  bait,  hook,  sinker,  and  all,  and  maybe 
a  part  of  the  line,  then  give  it  a  back  pull  (not  forrard,  for 
that  is  blundersome,  and  may  pull  it  out  agin  p'raps,  but 
back)  with  a  short  turn  of  the  wrist,  and  it  whips  the  hook 


m 


146 


SAM    slick's   sayings    AND    DOINGS. 


til!  i 


'.5. 


'\k  . 


ill ; 


•li  t" 


f :  I'll 


right  into  the  jaw.  Oh,  it's  beautiful  play,  that !  it  sharp- 
ens the  wit,  p'ints  the  eye-teeth,  and  raises  a  man  in  the 
scale  of  intelligence.  I  never  see  a  human  yet,  unless  he 
was  one  of  our  free  and  enlightened  citizens,  tiiat  had  the 
science  —  never,  and  I  must  say  my  hand  is  'most  out.  I 
want  practice  ;  for  in  them  British  provinces  the  folks  are 
as  simple  as  the  partridges  be,  and  they  are  so  tame  and  so 
stupid,  it's  no  fun  a-goin'  out  a-gunnin'  arter  them,  for  you 
can  shoot  'em  like  hens  at  a  roost.  Floorin'  one  of  them 
afore  the  eyes  of  the  others  never  starts  the  flock,  it  only 
'mazes  them.  But  stop,"  said  he,  "  tapping  me  on  the 
shoulder,  stop,  squire,  and  look  out  o'  that  are  winder.  Do 
you  see  that  are  tall,  limber-timbered,  slinky-lookin'  man 
with  the  blue  cloak  and  t»vo  long  black  cords  a-hangin'  from 
it  with  almighty  big  tassels  a-danglin'  to  the  eend  of  it  like 
the  lamp-rope  there,  a-carryin'  part  of  the  cloak  folded  on 
one  arm  like  a  Roman  senator,  and  t'  other  arm  a  kimber, 
with  his  hat  cockaded  military  like  ?  well,  that  is  General 
Conrad  Corncob.  He  is  the  greatest  spekilator  in  these 
parts.  He  made  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  eastern 
lands  last  year,  and  ten  thousand  to  New  Brunswick  this 
season.  He  thinks  no  small  beer  of  himself,  that  man, 
and  boasts  that  he  never  put  his  foot  in  it  in  his  life.  If  I 
don't  lighten  him  of  two  thousand  dollars  afore  to-morrow 
mornin',  say  my  name  is  not  Sam  Slick.  1  '11  walk  right 
into  him,  tight  as  he  is,  I  know.  I'll  bam  him  so  he'll  be  a 
caution,  1  hope  T  may  be  shot  if  I  won't.  There  is  ziothin' 
like  fishin'  for  the  leadin'  trouts  of  the  hole  —  no,  nothin'; 
there  is  some  fun  in  that,  somethin*  worth  holdin'  out  the 
landin'-net  for  —  beautiful  spots  of  gold  on  them  fellers  — 
lick,  it  makes  my  mouth  water.     It's  excitin' — it's  dread- 


TRADING    IN    BED. 


147 


fnl  pretty  ;  it  caps  all,  that's  a  fact.  I  sha'  n't  see  you  now 
agiii  till  moniin',  squire,  for  it's  considerable  well  on  in  the 
cvenin'  now,  when  daylight's  down,  and  I  should  n't  wonder 
if  I  had  *  to  trade  in  bed'  afore  I  bring  him  to  tarms,  so 
good-night.  I  'II  play  'possum  with  you  in  the  mornin',  and 
be  ready  to  start  with  you  as  early  as  you  please." 

The  following  morning  Mr.  Slick  put  a  small  piece  of 
paper  in  my  hand,  and  said,  with  a  smile  of  triumph  on  his 
face  — "  Read  that,  squire,  if  you  please.  '  To  the  cashier 
of  the  Bangor  bank.  Sir,  please  to  pay  to  Samuel  Slick, 
Esq.,  two  thousand  dollars  and  ninety  cents,  and  charge  the 
same  to  yours,  &c.  Conrad  Corncob,  Lt.  Genl.'  I  did 
him,"  said  he,  exultingly,  "  I  did  him ;  but  it  was  no  easy 
matter,  I  tell  you.  I  had  to  play  him  up  and  down  stream 
more  nor  once  and  shift  the  color  of  the  fly  till  I  tempted 
him  ;  but  he  is  bagged  for  once,  anyhow.  It  was  a'most 
a-difficult  piece  of  business ;  and  I  must  say,  tho'  I  say  it 
that  shouldn't  say  it,  that  I  don't  think  there  is  another 
man  this  blessed  day  in  the  states  would  have  done  it  but 
myself,  not  one.  But  come,  we  must  be  a-movin' ;  and  as 
we  drive  on,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was. 

"  Arter  I  left  you,  I  seed  him  in  a  line  with  the  stable ; 
60  I  jist  walks  out  and  makes  for  the  hoss-stalls,  lookin' 
down  in  a  hurry  like,  and  seemin'  chock  full  of  bisness, 
and  not  letiin'  on  as  if  I  knowd  that  he  was  there,  for 
there  is  nothin'  like  a  non-committal,  and  he  calls  out: 
'  Why,  Slick,  if  that  ain't  you,  as  I  am  alive  !  why,  how 
do  you  do,  eh  ?  who  on  airth  would  have  expected  to  have 
seed  you  here.'  So  I  looks  up,  'mazed  like,  like  a  feller 
that's  lost  his  road,  and  says  I,  'Stranger,  you  have  the 
advantage  of  me,  I  guess.'  — '  Possible,'  said  he,  '  not  know 


U  ' 


148 


SAM    .SLICK'S    SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


m 


m 


WW 
''1  fe 


i% 


Mil' 


wm. 


me?  oh,  for  ever!'  — '  Wlr','  says  I,  '  I  know  your  voice, 
and  know  your  face,  and  ovf/ht  to  know  yovn*  name  ;  but — ' 
•Well,  if  you  think  you  ought,'  said  lie,  'you  shall.  Don't 
you  mind  Gineral  Conrad  Corncob,  him  that  was  kyurnal 
last  war  on  full  pay  V  — '  Corncob  V  says  I.  'Let  me  see,' 
said  T.  'Corncob  —  Corncob!'  and  then  I  scratched  my 
head  like  a  dog  in  sarch  of  a  flea  — '  oh  !  ay  !  to  be  sure  I 
do,  and  glad  to  see  you,  too.'  — '  I  thought,'  said  he, '  Slick, 
you  was  down  to  Nova  Scotia,  a-tradin'  among  them  tatur- 
headed  Blue-noses  ;  and,  d — n  them  fellers,  they  talk  rather 
warlike  about  the  boundary  line.  I  should  n't  wonder  if 
they  'd  like  a  war,  the  villains ;  for  they  'd  find  it  a  plaguy 
sight  easier,  I  estimate,  to  come  and  grab  our  vessels  than, 
build  them  for  themselves.  Halifax  always  goes  ahead  by 
a  war.  Have  you  done  anything  out  of  the  clock-line  down 
there  lately  ?  Is  there  any  room  there  for  a  spec'  in  the 
land  way  on  a  large  scale  V  Well,  I  jist  look'd  up  at  him, 
and  eyed  him  hard  in  the  face,  Avithout  sayin'  of  a  word  for 
a  space,  dube  some  like,  as  if  it  was  a  dangerous  thing  to 
let  one's  tongue  run  too  fast,  and  then  said,  a-holdin'  of  my 
head  down,  as  if  I  had  concluded  to  keep  dark :  '  Well,  I 
must  say,'  said  I, '  I  haven't  done  bad  in  clocks,  that's  sar- 
tain.' — 'Fire  and  tow!  have  you  done  anything  in  the 
timber  line  V  said  he,  '  for  that  is  a  rising  property.'  Well, 
I  made  as  if  I  did  n't  hear  him,  so  as  to  'cite  his  curiosity, 
and  says  I,  '  Gineral,  that  are  boundary-line  will  cause 
trouble  yet,  I  reckon.  You  Maine  folks  have  been  talkin' 
a  leetle  too  fast  lately  —  a  leetle  too  much  bush.  You  won't 
frighten  Blue-nose  so  easy  as  you  are  a-thinkin'  on,  I  tell 
you.'  — '  Well,'  says  he,  '  we  've  talked  and  bragged  so 
much  lately  about  it,  I  *m  tired  and  sick  of  the  subject ; 


TRADING   IN   BED. 


149 


but  I  see  you  have  made  a  hit,  I  know  you  have,  you  are 
HO  inf'arnal  costive.  I've  seed  folks  carry  a  heavy  secret 
afore  to-day.  What  is  it?' — '  Governor  Fairfield  has  been 
too  rash,  and  talked  too  big,'  says  I.  •  We  have  suflFered  in 
the  eyes  of  foreigners.' — '  The  devil  take  the  eyes  of  for- 
eigners, and  Governor  Fairfield,  and  the  boundary,  too,* 
says  he.  '  Fire  and  tow  !  your  spec',  what  is  it  V  And 
he  opened  his  cloak  and  put  his  arm  inside  of  mine  and 
walked  on.  'What's  the  tune,'  said  he;  'two  or  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  eh?'  —  'Well,'  says  I,  'gineral, 
there  is  no  evadin'  you,  you  are  so  everlastin*  cute.  I  be- 
lieve you  could  see  a  hole  in  a  millstone  if  it  was  no  bigger 
than  the  p'int  of  a  needle,  providin'  you  picked  it  yourself. 
Who  told  you  I  had  made  a  spec'  ?  tell  me  how  it  leaked 
out.'  —  'Oh!'  says  he,  'I  knew  it  from  your  manner;  I 
hope  I  may  be  shot  if  I  did  n't.  Fire  and  tow  !  it  tan't  no 
easy  matter  to  blind  me.'  — '  Well,  then,'  says  I,  'I  have 
made  a  spec',  gineral,  that's  a  fact,  and  such  a  spec',  too, 
p  ain't  often  made  now-a-days  nother.  It's  a  top-iawyer 
oiie,  I  do  assure  you  ;  but  I  can  't  avail  it.  I  am  afraid  this 
Britisher  that 's  here  will  be  the  ruin  of  me  yet ;  for  he  has 
made  me  promise  to  make  tracks  with  him  this  summer, 
and  I  am  'most  afeerd  I  shall  lose  the  chance  of  gettin'  up 
a  company  by  it,  and  it's  a  pity,  too,  for  there  ain't  such  a 
location  atween  the  poles  hardly.  I  got  it  for  half  nothin*, 
a  mere  song:  it's  grand,  that's  sartain.  Now,'  says  I,  'if 
you  would  give  me  a  little  advice  how  to  work  it,  I  '11  give 
you  some  hints  about  property  in  Nova  Scotia  that  will 
clear  two  hundred  per  cent. ;  but  it 's  a  long  story,  and 
walls  have  ears-  so  I  -  111  turn  in  with  you,  if  Miss  Corn- 
cob, your  wife,  ain't  here,  and  we  '11  talk  it  over  in  bed. 


'ill 


I 


fl  !: 


il' :|: 


ill 


im, 


'mm 


11 


■f: 


llrf 


150 


RAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


If  we  can  aj^ree,  I  will  give  yon  an  agency  that  will  be 
worth  while.'  —  '  Well,' says  he,  '  do,  for  there  is  nothin' 
like  '  tradiii'  a-hed^  and  I  will  council  you  to  the  best  of 
my  abilities  ;  but  is  it  refuge  or  superfine  clear  stuff,  or 
only  marchantable  ?'  —  'Oh  !'  says  I,  '  there  is  no  mistake, 
it 's  for  myself,  and  not  to  put  off  agin  ;  it 's  the  rael  solid 
thing,  and  not  holler,  or  lackered,  or  plated,  but  jist  ginu- 
wine.  If  it  was  a  bam,  there  would  be  no  need  of  advice, 
I  reckon  ;  but  it 's  how  to  go  the  whole  figur'.' 

"Well,  arter  walkin'  about  a  trifle  from  the  house,  for  a 
while,  and  talkin'  about  indifferent  subjects,  we  took  jist  a 
dust  of  rael  good  niint-julip,  and  turned  into  bed.  Says  he, 
'  Slick,  excuse  me,  but  I  must  turn  my  back  on  you,  for,  as 
I  chews  a  good  deal,  I  'd  have  to  spit  across  you  in  the 
night,  which  ain't  very  genteel,  so  I  can  't  lay  spoonbill 
fashion.  Now  for  the  spec'.'  I  seed  his  curosity  was  up, 
80  not  to  appear  in  a  hurry,  I  said  :  '  Gineral,'  says  I, 
*  nothin'  but  bisness  would  ever  make  me  sleep  with  a  man. 
I  got  frightened  out  of  a  year's  growth  once,  by  goin'  to 
bed  with  a  Britisher.  It  was  second  or  third  stage  out  of 
Buffalo,  Oanady  way.  When  I  arrived  it  was  late  to  night, 
and  I  had  to  dig  thro'  the  woods  considerable  sharp  to  get 
there  at  all.  The  house  was  full,  and  every  bed  had  two 
in  it,  all  'xcep  one,  and  that  an  Englishman  bad,  who  cai*- 
ried  on  and  swore  so  'bout  sleepin'  two  in  a  bed,  that  they 
gave  hiin  one  all  to  himself,  more  to  save  the  bother  of 
bavin'  a  quarrel  with  him  than  out  of  any  love  for  him  ; 
for  them  English  are  tlit  devil  when  travellin',  they  give 
so  much  trouble,  and,  do  what  you  will,  are  never  satisfied.' 
—  'Exactly,'  said  the  gi.icral,  'most  commonly  their  man- 
ners arc   vude,   overbeaiin',    and   tyrannical.     They    want 


TRADING   IN   BED. 


161 


their  flints  fixed  for  'em,  as  we  did  last  war;  but,  fire  and 
tow  !  let 's  have  your  spec'  afore  we  get  a-noddin' ;  I  shall 
go  for  it  soon,  for  I  am  considerable  sleepy,  I  tell  you.'  — 
•Well,'  says  I,  '  so  they  jist  told  me  to  take  up  with  the 
Englishman,  and  I  ondressed  in  two-twos,  outs  with  the 
candle,  and  into  bed  in  no  time.  The  crittur  was  a-lyin' 
with  his  back  to  me,  a-snoring  like  a  bull,  and  more  nor 
once  I  had  a  mind  to  wake  him,  so  that  we  might  have  a 
fair  start  for  it ;  but  then  I  thought  it  would  o.ily  eend  in 
a  fight,  so  I  let  him  be.  But  jist  as  I  was  a-droppin'  off 
to  sleep,  the  crittur  fell  to  and  kicked  like  a  jackass.  Lord, 
I  thought  he  would  have  kicked  me  out  of  bed,  or  broi.j 
my  leg,  he  kicked  so  like  all  possessed.  Thinks  I  to  my- 
self, "  What  on  airth  shall  I  do  ?  shall  I  give  him  a  slock- 
dolager  onder  the  ear  and  wake  him  up,  or  shall  I  turn  to 
and  kick  him  in  return  agin."  I  did  n't  actilly  know  what 
to  do;  at  last,  I  gets  upon  my  knees,  jist  lays  hold  of  him 
by  the  shoulders  and  turned  him  over,  with  his  face  to  me, 
and  his  back  to  the  outside  of  the  bed.  "  Now,"  says  I, 
"kick  away  till  you  are  tired,  will  you,  my  hearty,  and 
you  won't  hurt  nothin'  but  the  wall."  Well,  if  he  didn't 
snore  and  kick  away  in  great  style,  it  'u  a  pity  ;  but  as  he 
didn't  touch  me  no  more,  I  dropped  off  asleep,  and  left  him 
a-batterin'  away  at  the  wall  with  his  heels  like  a  pavior's 
rammer.  In  the  mor.iiu'  he  was  qi  "at  enough;  but,  oh, 
such  an  vjgly,  ongainly-lookin'  beast  I  never  seed.  He 
had  his  mouth  wide  open,  a-showin'  of  his  snags  of  teeth 
like  a  boss  when  he  sneezes,  and  there  was  dry  froth  en  his 
nose  and  lips  from  snortin'  so.  His  eyes  was  open  too  (for 
some  men  sleep  with  their  peepers  open,  like  the  Dutch 
overseer  of  the  niggers,  Avith  the   glass  eye,  in  the  sug;»r- 


152 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


r  I 


Si  "\%. 


M 
m 


I.  1> 


6  M 


1"  *f 


I 


;^i  i!!^ 


11   !(   }■ 


liouso),  and  tliey  stared  like  the  eyes  of  nn  owl,  and  had 
jist  slch  a  glassy,  filmy,  onmeanin'  look.  His  hands,  like 
most  Britishers,  was  as  white  as  chalk,  but  the  nails  was 
blue,  and  so  was  his  lips.  The  nostrils  were  pinched  in, 
and  his  nose  looked  pointed  ;  altogether,  he  was  a  perfect 
picun'  of  an  ugly  man.  "  Hullo,  shipmate,"  says  I,  •'  how's 
yovir  liools  this  mornin'  ?  I  guess  you  must  have  hurt  'em 
agin  that  are  wall  last  night,  for  yoti  kicked  like  all  venge- 
ance ;'  but  he  was  as  sound  as  a  top.  With  that,  I  throwd 
down  the  clothes  on  mj/  side,  and  was  a-gittin'  out  of  bed, 
when  one  leg  touched  him,  and  his  skin  was  so  cold  and  so 
clammy,  I  turned  round  and  took  another  survey  of  him, 
and  then  put  my  ear  close  to  his  mouth,  and  I  hope  I  may 
be  shot  if  he  warn't  as  dead  as  a  herring.  He  was,  I 
swear !  It  was  an  apperplexy  fit  he  had,  that  made  him 
kick  so  like  mad.  It  made  me  quite  sick;  I  didn't  get 
that  crittur's  ugly  mug  out  of  my  thoughts  for  one  while,  I 
know.  It  was  horrid  now,  warn't  it?' — 'Well,  fire  and 
tow!  it  was  horrid,  that's. a  fact,'  said  the  gin  era! ;  'and 
if  your  bed  fellers  are  apt  to  be  so  confounded  onlucky,  I 
must  say  I'm  'most  afeerd  to  go  to  bed  with  you.  I  don't 
like  to  hear  about  them  thii\igs  at  night;  they  kinder  skeer 
a  .vay  sleep  and  set  me  a-dreamin' ;  —  let 's  hear  about  your 
Nova  Scotia  estate  :  what  is  it  like  ?'  — '  We  had  a  crown- 
er's  inquest  on  the  body,'  says  ^,  'and  the  crowner,  who 
was  a  bit  of  a  wag,  returned  a  vardict — "Died  of  fright, 
a-sleepin'  along  with  a  Yankee."  He  did,  upon  my  soul! 
Fact,  I  assure  you,'  — '  Who  the  plague  cares,'  says  Corn- 
cob, 'what  the  great,  fat,  porter-drinkin'  hog  died  of!  do, 
for  gracious'  sake,  let  him  be.  Did  you  say  your  land  was 
in  Nova  Scotia  or  New  Brunswick?     Come,  gin  over  fool- 


TUADINU   IN    liED. 


153 


in',  that 's  a  good  feller.'  I  seed  he  was  very  anxious  to 
licar  about  the  bond,  so  to  tease  him  and  pique  him,  says 
I,  '  I  had  another  curous  adventure  once  with  a  man  in  bed.' 
— '  What  a  devil  of  a  long-winded  feller  you  be,  Slick,' 
says  he  ;  *  why  do  n't  you  come  to  the  p'int  at  once  1  if  you 
want  advice,  ax  it ;  if  not,  let 's  go  to  sleep,  for  your  stories 
are  dismal.  Fire  and  tow  !  I  shall  see  that  dead  man  in 
a  nightmare  yet.'  — '  Well,'  says  I,  '  this  one  will  make  you 
larf  anyhow,  for  it  took  a  different  turn  from  t  'other  one 
altogether.  When  I  fust  went  out  in  the  ?Jock  line,  up 
Huron  way,  I  used  to  be  subject  to  the  cramp,  violent  fits 
of  the  cramp,  and  nothin'  a'most  gave  me  relief  but  holdin* 
up  a  roll  of  stick-brimstone  in  my  hand,  and  I  used  to  place 
it  every  night  onder  the  pillar  of  my  bed  to  have  it  handy. 
Well,  one  night  (and  most  sincerely  cold  it  was  too)  I  was 
a-bed.  along  with  Plato  Frisk,  a  jumpin'  quaker,  a  terrible 
cross-grained  cantankersome  crittur  as  ever  I  seed.  He 
had  a  beard  like  a  goat,  it  hung  down  to  his  waist  a'most, 
and  he  had  the  power  of  raisin'  it  up  with  his  chin,  and 
whiskin'  it  as  an  ondocked  crittur  does  its  tail.  A  switch 
of  it  across  your  face  was  as  bad  as  a  blow  from  a  bunch 
of  stingin'  nettles ;  it  made  it  smart  agin,  like  all  wrath. 
It  was  a  caution  to  look  at.  His  nose  was  long,  thin,  and 
rounded,  like  the  shape  of  a  reapin'  hook,  and  his  eyes 
as  black  and  small  as  a  weasel's;  they  looked  like  two 
burnt  holes  in  a  blanket,  they  was  so  deep.  He  actilly 
was  an  awful  lookin'  crittur,  as  shaggy  as  a  two-year  old, 
and  jist  about  as  ontamed  too.  Well,  I  woke  up  in  the 
uiglit  half-dead  with  the  cramp,  and  screamin'  like  mad, 
iiiid  1  jist  out  fin  and  felt  for  the  brimstone,  and  I  no  sooner 
bi'ized  it  than    Fiisk  he  roared  like  a  bull  too,  and   folks 

7 


(t 


il 


k\ 


iT(M 


i' 


I 

ill 


'  P  ■ 


)■' 


ii 


164 


BAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND  DOINGS. 


came  ninnin'  and  troopin'  in  from  the  other  room,  to  peo 
what  on  airth  all  the  hubbub  was  about;  and  I  hope  1  may 
(lie  this  blessed  :ninit  if  I  had  n't  got  him  by  the  noso.  in 
mistake  for  the    brimstone  (a'most  an  endless  one  it  was 
too),  and  was  a-squeezin'  away  and  a-hangin'  on  to  it  like 
grim  death  to  a  dead  nigger.     It  made  me  larf  so,  when 
the  lights  come  in  and  I  seed  the  ugly  faces  the  goney 
made,   that   it  cured    the    cramp,   hang  me   if  it  did  n't.' 
Well,  the  gineral  he  haw-hawed  right  out,  like  thunder. 
'Why,  Slick,'  said  he,  'what  a  droll  feller  you  be!  that 
was  a  mistake  done  a-purpose,  I  know  it  was,  for  you  was 
always  full  of  the  devil  when  a  boy  ;  but,  for  gracious'  sa'  ■ , 
let  my  nose  alone,  at  any  rate,  for  I  han't  much  to  spare,  I 
tell  you.     Upon  my  word  you  ain't  over  safe  to  sleep  with, 
are  you  ?     But,  fire  and  tow  !  let's  go  to  land,  as  the  feller 
said  when  the  boat  upset,  let's  get  to  land.     Let's  have 
bisness  first,  and  jokvS  arterward.'  —  Well,  there  is  reasiai 
even  in  roastin'  an  egg.     I  know'd  I  might  push  this  too 
far,  and  that  it  was  time  to  stop  afore  he  smelt  a  rat.     So  I 
jist  began  at  the  beginnin',  by  tellin  him  the  land  warn"t 
for  sale  at  no  rate,  but  for  a  company,  m  shares,  to  be  called 
'  Chester  Lakes   Mill   Company,'    and  to  be  incorporated 
like  other  companies,  so  that  they  need  n't  pay  their  debts 
if  they  had  n't  a  mind  to.     Then  I  laid  out  afore  him  how 
grand  the  water  powers  was,  and  what  noble  timber  there 
was  all  around  on  the  queen's  land  that  was  to  be  had  for 
takin',  and  the  great  lakes  for  raftin'  of  it,  and  Windsor 
river  for  shippin'  of  it,  and  Malione  bay  on  t'  other  side 
for  expoitin'  of  it,  and  so  on,  and  then  oft'er'd  him  a  bonus 
of  four  hundred  dollars,  and  a  commission  of  ten  per  cent. 
to  sell  shares.     All  the  time  I  was  a  talkin'  of  this,  I  heerd 


TRADING   IN    BED. 


155 


old  'fire  nnd  tow'  a-workin'  ot  the  weed  in  great  style,  and 
when  I  got  til  is  far,  ho  put  out  his  hand  and  felt  onder  the 
pillar  for  his  backy.  I  seed  he  was  a-beginnin'  to  nibble  at 
the  bait,  and  that  he  was  fairly  on  the  scent,  and  I  cal- 
culated I  should  have  him  afore  long,  if  nothin'  did  n't 
skeer  him.  Says  he,  *  Why  not  sell  out  and  out,  and  have 
done  with  it?  I  think  I  could  show  you  how  to  put  it  oft'.'  — 
'  Sell  it,'  says  I,  •  catch  me  a-sellin'  of  it !  why  it 's  onfit  for 
sale.'  —  'Onfit!'  says  he,  'how  so?  I  thought  you  said  it 
was  perticular  jam.'  —  'So  it  is,*  says  I,  'and  that's  the 
reason  it 's  onfit ;  it's  the  rael  right  down  thing  itself  — 
'  ^'^ou  know  best,'  says  he,  '  but  if  I  was  to  presume  to  ofi'er 
opinion  to  a  man  o'  your  judgment,  I  should  say  sell. 
Companies  is  cumbrous,  full  of  liabilities,  and  troublesome. 
Sales  is  short  and  snug,  and  they  eend  the  bisness,  so  you 
can  turn  the  money  quick,  and  are  ready  for  a  fresh  start.' 
—  'Exactly,'  says  I,  'when  it's  a  bam  sell  by  all  means; 
but  when  it 's  got  a  bottom,  my  rule  is,  to  hold  on.'  Says 
he,  'Look  here.  Slick.'  —  'What  on  airth  is  the  use  of 
lookin','  says  I,  *  for  it 's  as  dark  as  Egypt ;  I  can't  see  if  I 
do  look.'  — '  Fire  and  tow  !'  said  he,  'listen,  if  you  can,  for 
you  are  like  a  sheep's  head,  all  jaw.  I'll  give  you  two 
thousand  dollars  at  a  word,  for  your  bargain ;  what  do  you 
say  now,  go  or  no  go  ?  Say  the  word,  bargain  or  no  bar- 
gain !'  —  'I'll  give  you  an  answer  in  the  mornin',  gineral,' 
says  I.  '  I  don't  want  to  part  with  it,  and  I  must  sleep 
upon  it.  The  fact  is,  selling  shares  to  a  company  would 
bring  more  nor  twice  that  are  sum.  Let  me  cipher  over  it 
a  little,  for  I  have  got  hold  of  a  real  pitikilar  smart  chance, 
and  the  right  eend  of  the  rope  too,  and  if  I  am  too  greedy 
to  turn  it  at  once,  I  know  I  shall  repent  it  to  my  dying 


-.  iHii 


ip 


156 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


,■. 


'ill 


day.' — •  No,'  said  he,  '  I  like  a  man  to  be  up  to  the  notch, 
and  stand  to  his  lick-log;  salt  or  no  salt,  say  the  word,  or 
it's  no  offer.'  —  'Dear,  dear,'  said  I,  '  you  put  the  leake  into 
every  one,  a'most,  gineial ;  other  men  beat  the  bush,  but 
you  catch  the  bird ;  say  ninety  cents  more,  for  I  have 
made  a  vuw  I  wouldn't  look  at  two  thousand  dollars,  and 
it's  yourn.'  —  'Fire  and  tow!  then,  done,'  said  he,  'and 
now  I  '11  show  you  how  I  do  business ;'  and  with  that  he 
jumps  out  of  bed  and  lights  a  lucifer,  and  openin'  of  his 
desk,  says  he,  '  Write  you  a  short  assignment  of  that  bond, 
Slick,  and  I  will  write  the  check;'  and  in  less  than  twenty 
minutes  the  bond  was  in  his  trunk,  the  check  in  my  port- 
manter,  and  we  was  both  in  bed  agin,  back  to  back,  as 
sociable  as  you  please.  *  Well,  gineral,'  says  I,  •  as  you 
say  business  fust  and  jokes  arterward,  now  I'll  tell  you 
another  story  of  two  fellers  sleepin'  in  one  bed,  a'most  as 
good  as  t'  other  one. 

" '  The  house  they  was  a-sleepin'  in  took  fire,  and  they 
jumps  up  in  an  all-fired  hurry,  and  stein'  one  pair  of  trow- 
sers  atween  them,  half-asleep  and  half-awake  as  they  was, 
each  put  a  leg  in  it,  and  they  rolled  down  stairs  tied  together, 
kickin'  and  squeelin'  like  two  pigs,  and  were  half-trod  to 
death  and  a'most  killed.  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.'  —  'Do 
be  quiet,'  says  he;  'I  beHeve  in  my  soul  you'd  talk  all 
night;  and  when  I  larf  so  much,  I  can't  go  to  sleep  arter- 
ward, it  sets  me  a  coughin'  so.  Good-night,'  and  he  was 
off  in  a  hand-gallop  of  a  si\ore  in  a  little  less  than  half  no 
time.  Thinks  I  to  myself  (half-larfin'  in  my  sleeve  till  I 
a'most  snickered  agin),  'you  are  right,  gineral,  bisness  fust 
and  jokes  arterward  ;  that 's  jist  exactly  what  you  have 
been   doin',   only  you    do  n't   know   it.      You  '11  find   this 


TRADING   IN   BED. 


1  r  " 


night's  work  a  capital  joke  some  o' these  days,  or  I  am 
mistakened,  that 's  all.  You  'd  rather  a-had  the  dead 
Englishman  here  along  ide  of  you  in  bed  than  me,  I  know. 
You  might  a-got  an  odd  kick  from  him,  but  I  '11  be  hanged 
if  youd'd  a-been  hit^  The  crittur  had  n  t  sense  enough  for 
that  at  no  time.  Oh  1  it  was  done  pretty,  that,  squire ;  it 
made  me  feel  good  all  over.  It  was  what  I  call  workman- 
like. Bed  is  tUe  place  for  doin'  bisness  in  arter  all.  You 
ain't  bound  to  hear  all  that's  said  in  bed;  and  if  you  hesi- 
tate, and  boggle  a  little,  why  it  looks  sleepy  like,  and  not 
stupid.  There  ain't  time,  too,  for  chafferin'  and  higglin', 
too,  long ;  and  a  funny  story,  throw'd  in  for  spice,  keeps  a 
feller  in  good  humor.  Then  there  ain't  no  fear  of  inter- 
ruption or  observation,  and  nothin'  to  distract  attention. 
Bundlin'  or  courtin'  in  the  new  clearin's  is  done  the  same 
It 's  the  best  place  for  makin'  a  sarmon  in,  too,  or  an 


w 


ay. 

oration,  or  any  diflScult  piece  of  bisness ;  but  as  for  dealin' 
ind  traffickin'  that  requires  skill,  depend  on  it,  squii'e,  if 
you  are  only  wide  awake  and  duly  sober,  there  is  nothin* 
like  *  tradin'  in  bed,^ " 


158 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


fs^il 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

KNOWING   THE  SOUNDINGS,  OR   POLLY  COFFIN'S  8ANDH0LB. 


,  .■■■■■::;;,; 


Ji  I 


II  ■! 


■%  '•  I 


M,    I. 


The  reckless  speculation  occasioned  by  an  equally  reck- 
less issue  of  paper-money,  which  has  of  late  years  ap- 
peared in  the  Unite '  States,  has  had  a  far  more  injurious 
operation  than  any  one  who  has  not  carefully  watched  its 
progress  and  eflPects  could  possibly  suppose.  The  first  ap- 
parent change  it  produced  was  to  raise  the  price  of  real 
and  personal  property  far  beyond  their  value,  and  to  cause 
the  unhappy  delusion,  that  this  feverish  excitement  was  a 
healthy  condition.  That  a  great  alteration  had  taken  place 
was  obvious  to  all ;  and  those  who  were  profiting  by  it, 
found  it  by  no  means  a  difficult  task  to  make  men  believe 
it  was  the  natural  result  of  republican  institutions,  of  a  free 
trade,  a  fertile  soil,  and  an  intelligent  spirit  of  enterprise. 
In  this  opinion  they  were  unfortunately  confirmed,  by  find- 
ing the  liberal  party  among  the  English  and  the  colonists 
constantly  repeating  the  same  absurd  theory,  and  contrast- 
ing the  high  prices  of  the  United  States  with  the  sounder 
and  more  rational  condition  of  Canada,  as  a  proof  of  the 
superior  advantages  of  elective  governments  over  a  mon- 
archy. They  all  affected  to  be  unable  to  attribute  the  dif- 
ference in  the  price  of  land  on  the  opposite  sides  of  the 
boundary-line  to  any  other  cause  than  the  ballot,  universal 
suffrage,  and  annual   elections.     The  consequence  of  all 


KNOWING   THE   SOUNDINGS. 


159 


this  has  been,  that  the  Americans  have  suflPered  immense 
losses  in  their  trade,  vvhile  the  colonists  have  suffered  no 
less  in  their  peace  and  happiness,  by  the  introduction  of 
wild  theories  of  government  by  those  whose  rank  and  in- 
fluence gave  a  mischievous  weight  to  their  opinions.  In 
the  states,  however,  the  great  pecuniary  loss  they  ha\e 
sustained  is  by  far  the  least  injury  they  have  incurred  from 
this  unfortunate  error.  Thetj  have  svffered  in  their  morals. 
A  wild  and  unprincipled  speculation  like  this  has  no  pre- 
tension to  be  dignified  by  the  name  of  trade  or  enterprise. 
It  is  one  of  the  worst  species  of  gambling,  inasmuch  as  it 
originates  in  deception,  and  is  contaminated  with  fraud 
throughout.  The  preceding  sketch,  which  is  founded  on 
fact,  shows  with  what  care  even  clever  and  experienced 
men  like  General  Corncob  can  be  duped,  when  their  cau- 
tion is  disarmed  bv  the  eagerness  of  speculation  ;  and  how 
readily  a  man  like  the  clockmaker  can  reconcile  himself, 
by  the  aid  of  a  little  sophistry,  to  a  fraudulent  transaction. 
"Had  you  no  compr.nction,"  said  I,  "Mr.  Slick,  in  palm- 
ing off  upon  the  general  that  worthless  bond,  and  in  taking 
from  him  so  large  a  sum  of  money  as  two  thousand  dollars, 
without  giving  him  any  equivalent  whatever."  —  "Com- 
punction," said  he,  in  grent  astonishment,  "why,  no,  squire; 
why  should  I  ?  This  ain't  tradin',  it 's  spekilatin'.  It  makes 
all  the  difference  in  the  world.  For  instance,  I  make  a 
throw,  you  see,  and  he  buys  it.  Well,  if  it  wins,  he  gets 
whatever  we  raffled  for,  and  if  it  don't,  he  loses,  that's  all. 
Great  gains  cover  many  losses.  If  one  land  spekilation  in 
ten  turns  out  well,  and  is  rael  jam,  it  makes  a  man's  nest. 
Oil,  no  !  if  it  was  trade,  why,  honor  bright !  but  it  tan't, 
it's  spekilatin';  and  you  might  as  well  call  loo,  or  put,  or 


Pf 


160 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


nm 


F-'ii;' 


;*i| 


r.'!: 


all-fom-s,  or  any  otlier  game,  trade.  It  tan't  givin'  valy  f<»r 
a  thing,  it 's  huyin'  a  chance.  Now,  there  is  no  more  harm 
done  in  settin'  oflP  a  chance  to  advantage  than  in  platin'  a 
candlestick,  or  gildin'  a  frame.  It 's  puffin',  that 's  all,  and 
that's  done  every  day  everywhere;  so  it  is  in  smugglin' — 
do  you  suppose  there  is  any  harm  in  that  1  If  you  snniggle 
clever,  you  win;  if  you  don't  it's  seized,  and  there  is 
an  eend  on  it ;  you  lose  the  trick,  but  the  game  is  not 
immoral." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  believe  that  so  sensible  a  man  as 
Mr.  Slick  could  be  the  dupe  of  such  shallow  nonsense,  if 
daily  experience  did  not  prove  how  much  easier  men  can 
deceive  themselves  where  their  interest  is  concerned,  than 
satisfy  others,  and  how  soon  the  morals  of  a  country  are 
damaged  by  this  sort  of  national  gambling.  The  explana- 
tion was  disagreeable.  I  was  reluctant  to  permit  him  to 
lower  himself  in  my  opinion,  and  I  changed  the  conversa- 
tion by  a  reference  to  colonial  subjects.  These  were  topics 
on  which  I  admired  to  hear  him  talk,  as  his  observations 
were  generally  correct,  often  original,  and  always  amusing. 
*'  Yes,"  said  he,  **  I  must  say,  without  a  morsel  of  vanity,  I 
estimate  I  have  picked  up  a  few  notions  of  men  and  things 
in  a  gineral  way  that  every  one  can  't  boast  of.  Now, 
there  's  them  colonies  and  colony-chaps,  Lord,  I  know  their 
ins  and  outs  better  than  they  do  themselves.  Oh,  dear !  I 
wish  I  had  the  berth  Lord  Sir  John  Russell,  queen's  prime 
minister  for  immigrants,  has,  for  jist  one  month.  The  wny 
I  'd  show  him  how  to  handle  the  ribbons  ain't  no  matter,  I 
know.  I'd  I'arn  him  how  to  set  on  the  box,  how  to  hold 
the  whip  atween  his  teeth,  and  to  yawk  the  reins  with  botii 
hands,  so  as  to  make  each  boss  in  the  team  feel  he  had  ;; 


KNOWING  THE  SOUNDINGS. 


161 


master  tliat  was  none  o'  the  scariest,  and  that  wouldn't  put 
up  with  no  nonsense.  A  cross-grained,  ongainly  crittur 
wouldn't  frighten  me  by  layin'  down  and  refusin'  to  draw, 
I  tell  you.  I'd  jist  start  the  rest  of  the  cattle  into  a  hand- 
some lope,  and  give  him  a  drag  over  the  gravel  till  I 
scratched  his  hide  for  him  a  considerable  sum,  and  see  how 
double  quick  he  'd  get  tired  of  that  fun,  up  on  his  pegs,  and 
go  as  quiet  as  a  lamb.  Lord,  I  'd  come  down  on  him  like  a 
duck  on  a  June  bug ;  I  'd  make  him  wake  snakes,  and  walk 
his  chalks,  as  the  western  folks  say,  I  know.  Nothin'  vexes 
an  onruly  beast  like  takin'  no  notice  of  him,  but  jist  movin' 
on  as  if  it  was  all  the  same  to  you  what  he  did,  as  you  know 
how  to  fix  his  flint.  I  have  an  idea  that  no  man  can  be  a 
good  statesman  that  can 't  drive  well.  There 's  a  great 
deal  to  be  I'arned  from  bosses.  Natur'  is  natur',  that  is  £, 
fact ;  but  the  natur'  of  a  boss  ain't  human,  that 's  all,  and 
he  can 't  talk ;  study  him,  therefore,  &nd  man  comes  easy 
arter  that.  There  ain't  no  part  of  a  boss  I  don't  know  — 
stock,  lock,  or  barrel.  No  man  can 't  cheat  me  in  a  boss. 
As  for  a  John  Bull,  or  a  Blue-nose,  I  never  seed  one  yet 
that  I  could  n't  walk  right  into  like  a  pumkin-pie.  They 
are  as  soft  as  dough,  them  fellers.  No,  sir ;  a  steady  arm 
and  a  light  hand  is  what  is  wanted,  not  givin'  them  their 
head  one  minit,  and  curbiu'  them  the  next,  and  'most 
throwin'  *em  down.  That's  no  way  to  drive,  but  jist  the 
way  to  spile  their  temper ;  but  bein'  afeerd  on  'em  is  the 
devil,  it  ruins  'em  right  off.  Oh,  dear  !  if  I  was  only  along- 
side Lord  Sir  John  on  the  state-box,  I  'd  teach  him  in  six 
lessons  so  that  he  could  manage  them  by  whisperin' ;  but 
you  might  as  well  whistle  jigs  to  a  milestone  as  to  an  Eng- 
lishman, they  are  so  infarnal  sot  in  their  ways.     The  first 

7* 


f 


ilir  ' 


K 


4 

[if 

;  .si  ■ 


f ' 


MBI 


I"  ■ 
\m' 


■w 

ill'  ■''■*' 


a::?!: 


162 


SAM  SLICK'S  SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


thing  to  know  how  to  get  safe  into  port  is  to  study  the 
soundings. 

"  I  mind  a  trick  I  played  once  on  old  '  Tarnal  Death,' 
as  we  called  Captain  Ebenezer  Fathom,  the  skipper  I  went 
to  South  sea  with.  He  kiiowed  every  inch  of  the  American 
coast  as  well  as  he  did  of  his  own  cabin ;  and  whenever  he 
throwed  the  lead,  and  looked  at  what  sort  of  bottom  it 
showed,  he  knowed  as  well  wliere  he  was  as  if  he  was  in 
sight  of  land.  He  did  beat  all,  that's  a  fact,  and  proper 
proud  he  was  of  it  too,  a-boastin'  and  a-crackin'  of  it  for 
everlastingly.  So,  afore  I  goes  aboard,  oflf  I  slips  to  a  sand- 
pit on  Polly  Coffin's  betterments,  where  they  got  sand  for 
the  Boston  iron  foundaries,  and  fills  a  bag  with  it  and  puts  it 
away  in  my  trunk.  Well,  we  was  gone  the  matter  of  three 
years  on  that  voyage  afore  we  reached  home ;  and  as  we 
neared  the  Nantuckit  coast.  Captain  Ebenezer  comes  down 
to  the  cabin  and  turns  in,  and  says  he,  '  Sam,'  says  he,  *  we 
are  in  sound in's  now,  I  calculate  ;  run  on  till  twelve  o'clock, 
and  then  heave-to  and  throw  the  lead,  for  it  is  as  dark  as 
Comingo,  and  let  me  see  what  it  fetches  up,  and,  'tarnal 
death  !  1  '11  tell  you  to  the  sixteenth  part  of  an  inch  what 
part  of  the  thirteen  united  uiiivarsal  worlds  we  be  in.' — 
♦  What  will  you  bet,'  says  I,  '  you  do  ?'  —  'I'll  bet  you  a 
pound  of  the  best  Varginy  pigtail,'  says  he ;  ♦  for  I  am  out 
of  backy  this  week  past,  and  have  been  chawing  oakum 
until  my  jaws  fairly  stick  together  with  the  tar.  Yesterday, 
when  you  turned  in,  I  throwed  out  a  signal  of  distress,  and 
brought  a  JBiitisher  down  on  us  five  miles  out  of  his  way; 
but,  cuss  him,  when  he  found  out  I  only  wanted  a  pig  of 
tobacco,  he  swore  like  all  vengeance,  and  hauled  his  wind 
right  off.     What  'tarnal  gulls  and  fools  they  be,  ain't  they  ? 


KNOWING  THE  SOUNDINGS. 


163 


Yes,  I'll  bet  you  a  pound  of  the  best.'  —  'Done,'  says  I, 
'  I  '11  go  my  death  on  it  you  don't  tell ;  for  I  never  will 
believe  no  soul  can  steer  by  the  lead,  for  sand  is  sand  every- 
where ;  and  who  can  tell  the  difference?'  —  'Any  fool,' 
said  he,  *  with  half  an  eye,  in  the  pitchiest,  inkiest,  lamp- 
blackiest  night  that  ever  was  created.  I  did  n't  get  here 
into  the  cabin  by  junipin'  thro*  the  skylight,  as  national 
officers  do,  but  worked  my  way  in  from  before  the  mast. 
'Tarnal  death  to  me !  a  man  that  don't  know  soundin's 
when  he  sees  it  is  fit  for  nothin'  but  to  bait  shark-hooks 
with.  Soundin's,  eh  ?  why,  I  was  born  in  soundin's,  sarved 
my  time  out  in  soundin's,  and  made  a  man  of  in  soundin's, 
and  a  pretty  superfine  fool  I  must  be  if  I  don't  know  'em. 
Come,  make  yourself  scarce,  for  I  am  sleepy  ;'  and  he  was 
a-snorin'  afoie  I  was  out  of  the  cabin.  Well,  at  twelve 
o'clock  we  hove-to,  and  sure  enough  found  sand  at  fifty 
fathom,  as  he  said  we  would.  What  does  I  do  but 
goes  and  takes  another  lead  and  dips  it  into  the  water 
to  wet  it,  and  then  stirs  it  in  the  ^'t  of  sand  I  had 
stowed  away  in  my  trunk,  and  then  goes  and  wakes  up  the 
skipper.  'Hollo,  shipmate!'  says  I, '  here 's  the  lead:  we 
have  a  got  a  sandy  bottom  in  fifty  fathom,  as  you  said.'  — 
'  Exactly,'  says  he,  '  did  n't  I  tell  you  so.  I  can  feel  my 
way  all  along  the  coast  when  it's  so  dark  you  can't  hear 
yourself  speak.  I  know  every  foot  of  it  as  well  as  if  I 
made  it  myself.  Give  me  the  lead.*  As  soon  as  he  took 
it  and  looked  at  it,  he  juinpt  right  up  on  eend  in  bed, 
'  Hollo  !*  said  he,  '  what  the  devil's  this  ?  give  me  my  specs, 
that 's  a  good  feller,  for  I  don't  see  as  well  as  I  used  to  did.' 
So  I  goes  to  the  table  and  hands  him  his  spectacles,  and 
says  I,  •  I  knew  you  could  n  t  tell  no  more  than  any  one 


^11 


11:31" 


llll 


t:  m 


I  m 


164 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


else  by  the  lead.  That  are  boast  of  yourii  was  a  barn,  and 
iiothin'  else.  I'll  trouble  you  for  your  pound  of  Varginny 
pigtail ;  jist  enter  it  in  the  log,  will  you  ]'  — '  Heavens  and 
airth !'  said  he,  a-mutterin'  to  himself,  '  old  Nantuck  is 
.sunk,  an  airthquake,  by  gum  !  What  a  dreadful  piece  of 
bisness  this  is!'  He  looked  as  white  as  chalk:  his  eyes 
started  most  out  of  his  head,  and  his  hair  looked  a  hundreJ 
ways  for  Sunday.  Lord,  how  frightened  he  looked,  he  WdS 
quite  onfakilised.  ' 'Tarnal  death  tome!'  says  he,  'bring 
the  andle  here  agin ;'  and  then  he  wiped  his  eyes  fust, 
and  then  his  specs,  and  took  another  long  look  at  it,  as 
steady  a^  if  he  was  a  drawin*  a  bead  on  it  fine  with  his 
rifle.  After  a  space,  he  jumps  right  out  of  bed  on  the 
floor,  a)id  bawls  out  as  loud  as  thunder  to  the  hands  on 
deck  —  ''Bout  ship,  boys!'  said  he,  'bout  ship  for  your 
lives,  as  quick  as  wink  I  old  Nantuck  has  gone  for  it  as 
sure  as  rates,  it  has  by  gosh !  I  hope  I  may  die  this 
blessed  instant  minit  of  time  if  that  are  lead  has  n't  gone 
right  slap  into  old  Aunt  Polly  Coffin's  sandhole.  What  a 
spot  o'  work  this  is!  Poor  old  Nantuck!'  and  he  was  jist 
ready  to  cry  a'most,  he  seemed  so  sorry.  '  Stop,'  says  I, 
'  captain,  I  'm  'most  afeerd  I  've  made  a  mistake ;  I  do 
believe  I  've  gin  you  the  wrong  lead :  look  at  this,' 
a-handin'  up  to  him  and  a-showin'  of  him  the  right  one. 
-  Ah !'  says  he,  fust  a-smilin'  and  then  bustin'  out  in  a  hoss- 
laugh,  '  you  thought  to  caicli  me,  Samrr.y,  did  you,  my  boy  ? 
but  it's  more  nor  you  nor  any  livin'  soul  can.  None  o'  you 
can  put  the  leake  into  nie  where  soundin's  is  consarned.  I 
defy  all  creation  to  do  that.  Nothin'  but  an  airthquake  can 
do  that.  Let  her  off  two  pints,  and  hold  on  that  way  till 
daylight.     Nobody  had  better  not  go  I'oolin'  with  me;   and 


KNOWING  THE   SOUNDINGS. 


165 


then  lie  swung  round  and  fixed  for  a  nap,  agin  inakin'  a 
chucklin'  noise,  half  grunt,  half-larf.  '  Catch  me,  catch  the 
devil,  will  you  ?  Think  I  don't  know  the  bar  grit  from 
Polly  Coffin's  sandhole  ?  Oh  !  of  course  I  don't,  I  don't 
know  nothin',  nor  never  did ;  I  never  had  no  eyes  nor  no 
sense  nother.  Old  folks  never  know  nothin',  and  never 
will ;  so,  'tarnal  death  to  you  !  teach  your  grandmother  to 
clap  ashes,  and  your  daddy  how  to  suck  eggs,  will  you  V 

•'  Now,  squire,  I  know  the  soundin's  of  them  are  colonies 
as  well  as  Captain  Ebenezer  did  Nantucket  bottom,  and 
could  put  his  royal  highness,  Lord  Sir  John  Russell,  up  to 
a  thing  or  two  he  don't  know,  that's  a  fact.  He  ought  to 
go  and  see  for  himself,  how  else  can  he  know  whether  folks 
are  drawin'  the  wool  over  his  eyes  or  no,  or  whether  it's 
proper  to  'bout  ship  or  not  1  Do  you  think  he  could  tell 
now,  or  any  other  British  minister  that  ever  stood  in  shoe- 
leather,  from  the  days  of  old  Captain  Noah,  of  the  ark- 
whaler,  downward,  how  many  kinds  of  patriots  there  are 
in  the  colonies?  no,  not  he.  It's  a  question  that  would 
pose  most  men,  unless  they  had  sarved  an  apprenticeship  to 
state  teachin'.  Well,  there  are  jist  five.  Rebel  patriots, 
mahogony  patriots,  spooney  patriots, 'place  patriots,  and 
rael  genuine  patriots.  Now,  to  govern  a  colony,  a  man 
ought  to  know  these  critturs  at  first  sight ;  for  they  are  as 
different  from  each  other  as  a  boss  is  from  a  jackass,  or  a 
hawk  from  a  handsaw.  A  rchcl  fatriot  is  a  gentleman  that 
talks  better  than  he  fights,  han't  got  much  property  in  a 
giweral  way,  and  hopes  to  grab  a  little  in  the  universal 
scramble.  He  starts  on  his  own  hook,  looks  to  his  rifle  for 
his  support,  and  shoots  his  own  game.  If  he  got  his  due,  he 
would  get  a  gallus  for  his  reward.     A  mahogoin/  patriot  is  a 


'"X- 


rr 


166 


BAM   FLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


i: 


..± 


M- 


i;v,(i 


111 


Si' > 


CI ittur  tliat  rides  like  a  beggar  a-liorseback :  you'll  know 
liiin  by  his  gait.  As  soon  as  be  begins  to  get  on  a  bit  in 
the  world,  he  is  enrious  of  all  them  that's  above  him,  and 
if  he  can't  get  his  legs  onder  the  mahogony  of  his  betters, 
is  for  takin'  his  betters'  mahogony  away  from  them.  To 
skin  his  pride  over  and  salve  his  vanity,  he  says  he  is 
excluded  on  account  of  his  politics  and  patriotism,  a  martyr 
to  his  vartuo.  This  chap  mi.^takes  impedence  for  inde- 
pendence, and  abuse  for  manliness  :  he  is  jist  about  a  little 
the  dirtiest  and  nastiest  bird  of  the  whole  flock  of  patriots. 
This  feller  should  be  sarved  out  in  his  own  way  :  he  should 
stand  in  the  pillory  and  be  pelted  with  rotten  eggs.  A 
spoonvy  2^(i^riot  is  a  well-meanin',  silly  Billy,  who  thinks  the 
Morld  can  be  reduced  to  squares  like  a  draftboard,  and 
governed  by  systems ;  who  talks  about  reforms,  codify  in', 
progression,  schoolmasters  abroad,  liberality,  responsibility, 
and  a  pack  of  party  catchwords  that  he  don't  knoN/  the 
meaning  of.  This  chap  is  a  fool,  and  ought  to  go  to  the 
infarmary.  A  place  patriot  is  a  rogue :  he  panders  to 
popular  prejudice,  appeals  to  the  passions  of  the  mob,  and 
tries  to  set  them  agin'  their  richer  neighbors,  and  attempts 
to  ride  on  their  shoirlders  into  the  government,  and  to  secure 
place  will  sacrifice  everything  that  is  valuable,  and  good, 
and  respectable.  He  is  a  philosopher  in  his  religion,  and 
a  rascal  in  his  philosophy.  He  is  wilful,  and  acts  against 
conviction.  This  man  is  the  loudest  and  most  dangerous 
of  all,  and  should  go  to  the  workhouse.  The  true  imtriot 
is  one  who  is  neither  a  sycophant  to  the  governuient  nor  a 
tyrant  to  the  people,  hut  one  who  will  manfully  oppose 
either  when  they  are  wrong,  who  regards  whnt's  right,  as 
minister  said  to  me,  and  not  what  is  popular  ;  who  supports 


KNOWING    THE  SOUNDINGS. 


167 


existin'  institutions  as  a  whole,  but  is  willin'  to  mend  or 
repair  any  part  that  is  defective."  —  "Why,  Mr.  Slick," 
said  I,  in  the  most  unfeigned  astonishment,  "  I  never  heard 
a  republican  hold  such  language  before :  why  you  are  a 
tory,  if  you  only  knew  it.  Are  you  merely  talking  for 
effect,  or  do  you  really  mean  what  you  say  ?  for  your 
picture  of  a  true  patriot  is  nothing  m(fre  or  less  than  the 
picture  of  a  consistent  tory.      Any   person  must  see  the 

resemblance  to  the  duke  of  Well "      '•  Why,  squire," 

said  he,  interrupting  mc,  "you  don't  know  our  soundin's 
from  Polly  Coffin's  sandhole  as  well  as  I  do,  or  you 
would  n't  ax  that  are  question,  at  no  rate.  I  am  a  feder- 
alist when  I  am  to  home,  tho'  I  somewhat  guess  you  are  a 
coiisarvative ;  but  a  monarchist  in  a  republic  and  a  repub- 
lican in  a  monarchy  is  jist  about  on  a  par — a  pair  of  rebels 
that  ought  to  be  chained  together,  that  they  might  have 
time  to  argue  it  out.  Our  government  suits  us  best,  yourn 
suits  you  best ;  a  good  citizen  stands  by  his  own.  I  don't 
care  who  looks  like  the  pictur'.  I  drawed  one  of  a  true 
patriot,  and  you  may  give  him  what  nickname  you  please ; 
but  I  han't  done  yet.  I  want  to  show  you  the  soundin's 
of  the  colonial  tories,  for  mind,  I  ain't  no  party  man.  I 
don't  care  a  snap  o' my  finger  who's  up  or  who's  down; 
I  'm  a  Yankee,  and  my  name  is  Sam  Slick  ;  at  least  they 
tell  me  so.  Now,  the  colonial  tories,  compacts,  officials, 
divine  succession  men,  cliques,  or  whatever  they  are  —  for 
they  have  as  many  aliases  as  the  Spanish  pirate  had  that 
was  hanged  to  Boston  —  are  about  the  best  folks  goin',  to 
my  mind,  to  trade  with,  and  the  nearest  up  to  the  notch; 
yet  there  are  three  sorts  of  them. 
"  WHiole  hog  5,  who  won't  hear  of  no  change,  good  or  bad, 


'(f'l 


i: 


/ 


i 
I 

1'  t!' 


1«8 


SAM    SUCK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


right  or  wrong,  at  no  rate.  These  critturs  are  of  the  don- 
key hiood.  They  stick  tlicir  head  into  the  fence,  and  h\sh 
awny  with  their  lieels  right  and  left,  till  all  is  blue  agin. 
Fashionable  ovcs,  who  don't  care  ninch  about  politics,  hut 
join  that  side  because  the  upper-cru.st  folks  and  betterninst 
people  are  that  way  of  thinkin' :  jackdaw  birds,  that  bor- 
row feathers  to  strut  in.  If  the  great  men  or  the  governor 
was  a  radical,  these  critturs  would  be  radical  too.  They 
fake  their  vnlur  from  the  ohjcct  thcjj  look  vp  to.  Then  there 
is  the  moderate  ones :  now  extremes  meet,  and  a  moderate 
colonial  compact  chap  and  a  true  patriot  are  so  near  alike 
it  would  puzzle  a  l*liiladeli)hia  lawyer  to  tell  'em  apart.  I 
shouldn't  like  to  let  on  that  I  said  so;  for,  cuss  *em,  if  it 
had  n't  a-been  for  them  the  patriots  or  reformers,  winter 
afore  last,  would  have  throwd  Canady  into  our  hands  as 
slick  as  i:;rease ;  and  I  wouldn't  a-said  to  others  what  I 
have  said  to  you  for  nothin'  a'most.  Now,  if  I  was  Jolin 
Russell  (for  ihem  almighty  long  tails  worn  afore  a  man's 
name  instead  of  behind  it,  always  bother  me,  and  it  comes 
handier  to  me  not  to  use  them) — if  I  was  him,  I 'd  jist 
slip  off  on  the  sly  to  the  provinces  without  sayin'  of  a  word, 
and  travel  as  plain  Mr.  Russell  (and,  I  guess,  nobody  would 
take  him  for  a  lord  unless  he  told  'em  so,  for  he  ain't  overly 
tall,  that  'k  a  fact)  and  jist  take  the  soundin's  of  these  folks 
myself.  He'd  hear  the  truth,  then,  for  some  patriot-folks 
say  one  thing  to  a  governor,  and  another  to  the  world.  He  'd 
know,  too,  when  influence  was  character,  and  when  it  was 
trick.  When  he  returned  again  to  home,  to  the  statehouse 
in  Downin'  street,  and  a  colonist  brought  him  a  lead  to  look 
at,  he'd  tell  with  half  an  eye,  like  Captain  Ebenezer,  wheth- 


w 


KNOWING   THE   SOUNDINGS. 


1G9 


cr  it  had  sand  on  it  froin  the  rail  hottoin,  or  Polly  CnffirCs 
sandholc. 

"If  them  jawin'  Jacks  to  paiTinient  liad  half  the  sense 
my  poor  old  mother  had,  they  M  know  what  to  say  when 
tlitnn  patriot  critturs  come  home  with  their  long  lockrums 
about  grievances,  with  an  everlastin'  lyin'  preface  to  it 
aboMt  loyalty.  They'd  say,  as  she  used  to  did,  poor  old 
crittur,  to  me  when  I  boasted  what  a  good  boy  I  was  a-goin' 
to  bQ  :  '  Sam,'  she  'd  say, '  I'd  a  ])lagU7/  sight  sooner  see  it  than 
hear  tell  of  it'  It  puts  me  in  mind  of  what  an  Ingian  once 
said  to  a  British  governor  afore  our  glorious  Revolution.  He 
was  a  great  hand  was  the  Britisher  (like  some  other  folks  I 
coidd  tell  you  of)  to  humbug  with  talk,  and  was  for  reform- 
in'  everything  a'most,  and  promised  al!  sorts  of  things,  and 
more,  too,  that  he  did  not  mean  ;  but  all  his  speeches  would 
read  both  ways,  so  that  he  could  intarpret  them  as  he  liked  ; 
po,  whichever  way  things  eventuated,  he  was  always  right. 
A  rigilar  i^olitician,  that  !  One  day  he  called  his  red  chil- 
dren togetlier,  as  he  called  the  Ingians,  and  made  tJiem  a 
speech,  too.  It  was  a  beautiful  speech,  I  tell  you,  all  in 
bad  English,  that  it  might  be  understood  better  and  sound 
Ingian-like.  Bimeby,  when  he  had  done,  up  rises  an  old 
chief,  a  rael  salt,  and  as  cunnin'  as  a  fox,  for  he  was  quite 
a  case  that  feller,  and,  says  he,  'Mr.  Gubbernor.'  —  'Let 
my  son  speak,'  said  the  governor, '  and  his  great  father  will 
open  his  ear  and  hear  him,  and  he  will  keep  his  words  in 
his  heart ;'  and  he  clapt  his  hand  on  his  breast  and  looked 
as  spoony  as  a  woman  does  on  her  first  child.  '  Very  good 
jaw  that,  Mister  Gubbernor,'  said  he ;  '  you  speak  um  dam 
well ;  now.  Mister  Gubbernor,  try  and  actum  well,  for  that 
is  more  better.'     That 's  exactly  the  language  John  Rus- 


fp 


I 


I  ■  Btl 


i'H'i'' 


E 1  m4 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


sell  ought  to  hold  t(^  colony  patriots  when  they  boast  of 
their  loyalty  ;  he  should  say,  'Actum  well,  for  that's  more 
better  still.'  Whenever  he  does  that,  I  shall  think  he 
knows  '  tlie  rael  soundin's  from  Polly  Coffin^ s  sandhole  ;^ 
won't  you,  squire  ?" 


Hjiip 


li'] 


i-'J 


I 

I' 


m\ 


•Ml 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

AN    OM)    FRIEND    WITH    A    NEW    FACE. 

Having  travelled  this  day  from  Parnassus  to  Thebes,* 
a  distance  of  tliirty-five  miles,  we  concluded  to  remain 
where  we  were.,  although  there  were  some  two  or  three 
hours  of  daylight  yet  to  spar?,,  and  to  resume  our  journey 
on  the  following  morning.  Tliebes  is  a  small  town,  nor 
does  there  appear  to  heave  been  any  grounds  whatever  for 
supposing  that  it  could,  by  any  possible  contingency,  ever 
attain  the  size  or  imitate  the  splendor  of  that  whose  name 
has  been  thought  so  appropriate  as  to  be  transferred  to  this 
little  assemblage  of  wooden  houses  and  log  huts.  The  town 
appeared  to  have  been  abandoned  by  its  inhabitants  for 
some  temporary  purpose,  for  the  houses,  though  all  closed, 
bore  marks  of  recent  occupation.  The  shops  and  taverns 
were  open,  as  if  in  readiness  to  receive  the  returning  popu- 
lation, while  the  scaffolds,  heaps  of  mortar,  and  unloaded 
wagons  of  timber,  all  exhibited  signs  of  a  hasty  desertion 
of  the  workmen.     Tlie  silence  and  melancholy  that  reigned 

*  I  have  used  these  names,  instead  of  the  real  ones,  as  well  on  ac- 
count of  avoiding  local  offence,  as  of  their  ahsurd  adoption  in  the  states 


AN   OLD   FRIEND   WITH   A   NEW   FACE. 


171 


thiougli  llie  streets  constituted  the  only  point  of  resem- 
blance to  its  great  prototype.  So  unusual  an  occurrence 
naturally  excited  my  curiosity,  and  upon  inquiring  its  cause, 
I  was  informed  there  was  a  gathering,  of  a  religious  bee, 
at  a  short  distance,  which  was  most  numerously  attended 
by  people  from  a  distance  as  well  as  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood ;  that  there  was  a  great  "stir,"  and  a  preacher  of 
mor<?  than  common  eloquence,  called  a  "  Corcornite,"  who 
was  breaking  up  all  the  old  congregations,  and  proselyting 
the  whole  country  to  his  new  notions. 

"  It  is  a  nervous  fever,"  said  my  informant,  the  innkeep- 
er, with  an  air  of  satirical  severity.  "All  nations  have  their 
peculiar  excitements.  The  Chinese  have  their  opium,  the 
South  sea  people  their  chew-chew,  the  Dutch  their  skidam, 
the  Indians  their  tobacco,  and  the  Irish  their  whiskey  ;  but 
we  have  a  combination  of  them  all  —  we  go  ahead  of  most 
folks  in  that  line.  We  have  rum,  strong  tea.  backy,  poli- 
tics, and  fanaticism.  We  are  the  most  excitable  and  ex- 
cited people  in  the  world.  One  mistake,  stranger,  natural- 
ly leads  to  another.  Them  are  puritans  that  came  out  of 
your  country  to  this,  proscribed  all  amusements,  all  inno- 
cent festivities,  all  gay^ty  of  the  heart,  and  held  that  the 
more  wretched  and  melancholy  they  were  the  more  accept- 
able they  would  be  to  the  Lord.  They  were  no  half-meas- 
ure chaps  them.  When  they  began  to  dissent  from  the 
church  they  went  the  whole  fignr'.  They  gave  up  all  vhe 
church  allowed,  and  retained  all  the  church  disapproved. 
The  church  prayed  for  the  king;  they  beheaded  him. 
The  church  thought  a  cheerful  countenance  betokened  a 
happy  heart  •  the  pu"itans  called  it  the  face  of  a  malignant, 
and  60  forth.     Well,  what  was  the  consequence  of  all  this? 


iiillj 


m  :i:  il. 


*  -i 


•!;■  » 
V 

.11 


172 


SAM   SUCK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


why,  ns  pretty  a  set  of  liypocrites  was  begotten  as  you'd 
wish  to  sec.  I  take  your  Cromwell  to  be  jist  a  superfine 
sample  of  them,  and  tiie  breed  is  tolerably  nnre  yet :  cold, 
canting,  sour  pliarisees,  who  appropriate  Heaven  to  them- 
selves, and  quietly  consign  all  the  rest  of  the  world  to  the 
devil.  This  feeling  has  tinged  every  one  of  the  hundred 
thousand  sects  that  have  sprung  up  to  oppose  the  .old  church 
of  Old  England.  I  ain  a  colonist  by  birth  myself;  I  was 
brought  up  an  episcopalian,  and  so  was  my  wife ;  but  my 
children  have  all  seceded.  One  is  a  Hixite,  another  a  uni- 
versalist,  a  third  a  unitarian,  and  a  fourth  a  socialist.  Re- 
ligion, instead  of  being  a  bond  of  union  in  my  house,  is  the 
Ctiuse  of  discord,  and  doctrinal  points  are  never-ending 
sources  of  dispute  and  disagreement.  Christianity,  sir,  is 
fast  giving  place  to  philosophy,  and  we  are  relapsing  into 
what  these  new  lights  call  '  rational  thinkers,'  or,  in  plain 
Englivsh,  atheists.  It  makes  me  sick  to  think  on  it ;  but 
you  had  better  go  and  see  for  yourself,  and  then  t-^ll  me  if 
such  disgraceful  work  is  religion.  This  fellow  that  is  draw- 
ing such  crowds  after  him,  belongs  not  to  any  of  the  great 
sects  of  episcopalians,  methodists,  baptists,  or  papists,  but  is 
called  a  '  Corcornite.'  His  doctrine  is  simply  this  :  that  a 
state  of  future  punishment  exists,  but  exists  only  for  those 
who  do  not  embrace  his  creed ;  —  a  comfortable  sort  of 
faith  which,  I  fear,  his  sect  is  not  the  only  one  that  propa- 
gates." 

The  meeting  was  held  on  the  betterments  of  a  new  set- 
tler, near  a  bridge,  to  which  several  roads  led,  and  which, 
from  its  central  situation,  was  easy  of  access  fi'om  various 
parts  of  the  country.  Wagons,  gigs,  and  cars  without 
number,  were  stationed  near  the  fences,  and  along  the  line 


il'';t' 


P>Mmi|^n«p«VH 


AN   OLD    FKJEND    WITH   A   NEW    FACE. 


173 


of  the  forests,  the  horses  belonging  to  each  carriage  being 
unharnessed  and  severally  fastened  by  a  halter  to  the  axle- 
tree  for  seonvjty,  Here  and  tliCrB  were  tents  and  booths, 
giving  the  field  the  appearance  of  a  military  encampment ; 
and  on  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  under  the  shade  of  the 
giants  of  the  forest,  were  numerous  conical  wigwams,  made 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Indians,  and  resembling  one  of 
their  summer  fishing  establishments.  In  the  centre  of  the 
clearing  was  a  large  barn,  which  was  filled  by  a  mixed  and 
mottled  multitude  of  people  listening  to  the  wild  declama- 
tion of  the  preacher,  whose  voice  was  occasionally  heard 
over  the  whole  field,  as  he  screamed  out  his  f.ightful  de- 
nunciations. Groups  of  men  were  scattered  about  the  field, 
seated  on  the  huge  stumps  which  here  and  there  dotted  the 
suiface  of  the  ground,  or  perched  on  the  upper  rails  of  the 
wooden  fence,  discussing  business  or  politics,  or  canvassing 
the  doctrines  or  merits  of  the  preacher ;  while  others  were 
indolently  lounging  about  the  refreshment-booths,  whiling 
away  the  time  with  cigars  and  mint-julep,  until  they 
should  be  joined  by  their  fair  friends  at  the  houi  of  inter- 
mission. 

After  some  difficulty,  Mr.  Slick  an  myself  forced  our 
way  into  the  barn,  and  fortunately  obtained  standing-room 
on  one  of  the  seats,  from  which  we  had  a  view  of  the  whole 
interior.  One  preacher  had  just  ceased  as  we  entered.  He 
was  succeeded  by  another,  a  tall,  thin,  and  rather  consump- 
tive-looking man,  who  had  a  red  silk  pocket-handkerchief 
tied  about  his  head,  and  wore  no  neckcloth.  There  was 
something  quite  ai)paHing  in  his  look.  There  was  such  a 
deep  dejection  in  his  countciiauco,  such  a  settled  melan- 
whuly,  such  a  look  of  total  abstraction  and  resignation  to  the 


m 


IW 


'in    'ri 


f   V; 


174 


SAM    SLICK'S    SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


y^~, 


'S.  !     I:' 


I 


endnrance  of  some  inevitable  fate,  tliat  I  was  forcibly  re- 
miiifled  of  tlie  appearance  of  an  unfortunate  criminal  when 
led  out  for  execution.  Instantly  all  was  linslicfl,  every  eve 
was  upon  iiini,  anc^  every  ear  in  anxious  solicitude  to  citeh 
the  almost  inaudible  whispers  that  fell  from  bis  lips.  Now 
and  then,  a  word  was  beard,  and  then  a  few  unconnected 
ones,  and,  sliortly,*  a  few  brief  sentences  or  niaxinis.  Pres- 
ently, bis  enunciation  was  clear  and  distinct,  and  it  gradu- 
ally increased  in  volume  and  rapidity,  until  it  became  pain- 
fully loud,  and  then  commenced  gesticulation,  emphasis,  and 
raving.  It  was  one  unceasing  flow  of  words  without  pause 
or  interruption,  except  for  an  occasional  draught  of  water 
from  a  stone-j)itcher  that  was  placed  beside  him.  Even 
this,  however,  was  insufiicient  to  prevent  exhaustion,  and 
he  removed  bis  coat.  He  then  commenced  the  great  effort 
of  bis  eloquence  —  a  description  of  the  tortures  of  the 
damned.  It  was  a  studied  and  frightful  piece  of  declama- 
tion, in  which  be  painted  their  wild,  demoniac  shrieks,  their 
blasphemous  despair,  their  unquencbed  and  unquenchable 
thirst  —  the  boiling,  steaming  lake  of  brimstone  —  their  un- 
willing tenacity  of  existence,  and  increased  sensibility  of 
pain.  When  all  the  figures  of  speecii  and  all  his  powers  of 
imagination  were  exhausted,  be  finished  the  horrible  picture 
by  the  introduction  of  fallen  angels,  who,  with  expanded 
wings,  hovered  for  ever  and  ever  over  this  awful  abyss, 
whose  business  and  plea-sure  was,  as  the  boiling  of  the  in- 
fernal caldron  brought  any  of  the  accursed  to  the  surface, 
with  spears  of  heated,  glowing  metal  to  thrust  them  deeper 
and  further  into  the  burning  flood. 

The  groans,  scieams,  and  hysterical  laughter  of  the  fe- 
male part  of  the  audience  was  so  frightful  and  appalling  ai 


iBHKI^ 


AN   OLD    FRIEND   WITH    A   NEW   FACE. 


175 


accompaniment  to  this  description,  that  my  feelings  became 
intensely  painful,  and  I  was  about  leaving  the  building, 
when  his  voice  suddenly  dropped  from  the  unnatural  pitch 
to  which  he  had  strained  it,  and  sunk  into  a  soft  and  seduc- 
tive tone,  in  which,  in-  the  mildest  and  gentlest  manDer,  he 
invited  them  to  accompany  him  to  paradise,  which  he  de- 
sciihed,  after  the  manner  of  the  Mohammedans,  as  as  abode 
fiM-nishcd  Avith  all  the  delicacies  and  pleasures  most  suited 
to  their  senses  and  corporeal  enjoyments.  He  then  repre- 
sented the  infernal  regions  as  the  doom  of  those  who  be- 
longed not  to  the  band  of  Avhich  he  was  the  head,  in  the 
absence  of  its  persecuted  founder,  "  Corcoran,"  and  invited 
his  hearers  to  fellowship. 

"Enough,"  said  I  to  Mr.  Slick,  "and  more  than  enough, 
lam  disgusted  and  horrified;  let  us  go." — "I  'most  won- 
der you  staid  so  long,"  said  he ;  "  it  is  awful  hot  here,  and 
that  crittur  talked  so  of  sulphur  I've  actilly  got  the  taste  of 
it  in  my  mouth  ;  my  tongue  is  all  warped  and  curled  up 
like  singed  shocleather.  I  must  have  a  brandy-cocktail  to 
cool  it.  But  I've  seen  that  feller  afore:  I  know  his  voice 
and  the  cut  of  his  jib  as  well  as  anything,  but  to  call  his 
name  out,  to  save  my  soul  alive  I  can't.  They  call  him 
Concord  Fisher,  but  that  is  not  his  rael  name,  that's  a  bam. 
Where  on  airth  have  I  seen  that  goney  ?  for  seen  him  I 
have,  by  gum  ?" 

The  following  morning,  he  said,  *'  Who  do  you  think  that 
are  preacher  was,  squire  ?  I  told  you  I  know'd  I  had  seed 
liiiii  afore,  for  I  never  forgot  a  face  yet ;  tho'  names  are  con- 
siderable slippery,  and  it  ain't  jist  so  easy  to  keep  hold  on 
such  soapy  things.  It  was  that  everlastin'  skirnimlgonn, 
Ahnb  Meldrum  ;  it  was,  I  swear.     Last  night,  jist  as  I  v  as 


4 


*\'i 


Ivl 


:|-.., 
li^ 


i 


§'%' 


^ 


m 


1, 


■m 


176 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


a-tiiniiu'  in,  who  should  slip  into  my  room  but  Ahab? 
'  Sam,'  says  he,  '  I  seed  you  to  the  great  '•  stir,"  and  know'd 
you  in  a  niinit ;  you  are  jist  the  man  I  want  to  see,  for  I 
need  your  advice ;  but,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  give  me 
some  brandy  and  water,  for  I  am  e'en  a'most  dead ;'  and 
he  gave  a  kind  of  tanyard  grin  that  went  right  straight 
to  the  heart.  '  We  have  to  preach  teetotalism  here,  for 
nothiu'  else  will  go  down;  but  it's  easier  to  preach  than 
in-i\ct(se  that:  give  me  some  grog,  or  I  shall  die.' — 'It 
sarves  you  right,'  says  I,  '  for  bein'  such  a  'tarnal  hypo- 
crite :  why  the  devil  don't  you  take  your  grog  like  a  man, 
If  you  need  it,  above-boord,  off-hand  handsum,  and  let  them 
that  don't  like  it  lump  it,  that's  my  way;  I  don't  approbate 
no  nonsense.'  Well,  I  goes  and  gets  some  brandy  and  water, 
enough  to  make  a  night-cap  for  two,  and,  says  I,  *  Swig 
aAvay  till  you  are  tired,  now,  will  you?  you  are  safe  with 
me  ;  I  won't  blow  you,  you  may  depend  !'  Well,  I  pitied 
the  poor  critter,  too,  for  he  looked  as  pale  and  as  white  about 
the  gills  as  a  scalded  nigger :  I  actilly  thought  he  would 
have  fainted,  he  was  so  weak.  '  Take  a  drop  of  it  neat,' 
says  I,  '  water  only  spiles  it :'  and  I  poured  him  out  a  gill 
of  the  pure  grit,  which  brought  his  color  back  and  revived 
him  a  bit.  When  he  come  to,  says  I,  '  Ahab,  what  onder 
the  sun  brought  you  here  ?  what  made  you  leave  Alabama  ? 
You  v/as  gittin'  on  like  a  house  a-fire  there,  a  soft-sawderin* 
the  women  there,  with  your  new  rule  in  grammar,  that  the 
feminine  gender  was  more  worthy  than  the  masculine,  and 
the  masculine  more  better  nor  the  neuter,  and  so  forth.  I 
hope  you  han't  been  illustratin',  eh  ?  no  more  Polly  Bacons. 
1  hope,  eh  1  you  was  always  a  sly  feller  that  way :  what 
was  it  V — '  Sam,'  says  he,  '  I've  been  a  fool,  and  it  sarves 


iTTrm' 


r 


AN   OLD    FRIEND    WITH    A    NEW   PACE. 


177 


me  rlglit ;  I  was  clDin'  the  smartest  chance  of  preachin'  there 
of  any  man  in  the  state,  and  I  throw'd  it  away  like  an  ass. 
I  am  punished  enough,  anyhow ;  spare  me,  for  I  am  as 
weak  as  a  child,  and  can 't  stand  Jobeing.  Spare  me,  that's 
a  good  crittur,  and  don't  you  bark  agin  me,  too,  for  it  will 
drive  me  crazy;'  and  he  put  his  hand  to  his  face  and  bo- 
hood  right  out.  '  Why,  you  poor  crittur,'  says  I  —  for  a 
touch  of  old  times  come  over  me,  when  we  was  boys  to 
school  together,  and  I  felt  kinder  sony  to  see  him  that 
way,  lookin'  so  streaked  —  *  why,  you  poor  crittur,'  says  I, 
'  you  've  worn  yourself  out  a-screachin'  and  a-screamin'  that 
^vay,  and  yellin'  like  a  ravin'  distracted  bedbug;  let  me 
mix  you  a  pitcher  of  eggnogg,  stiflP  enough  to  stick  to  your 
ribs  as  it  goes  down,  and  it  will  make  a  man  of  you  agin  in 
two-twos.'  So  away  I  goes  and  gets  a  lot  of  eggs  and 
sugar,  and  some  brandy,  and  mixes  up  a  dose  that  would 
float  a  dollar  a'most,  and  made  him  drink  it.  '  Now,'  says 
I,  '  for  your  rule  in  grammar ;  how  did  it  work  V — '  Well,* 
says  he,  *  it  *s  no  use  concealin'  any  thin'  from  you,  Sam  ;  it 
didn't  turn  out  well  in  the  eend,  that's  a  fact.  People  be- 
gan to  talk  considerable  hard  and  Lynchy  about  their  gals 
comin'  so  often  to  a  single  man  to  tell  their  experience,  and 
to  wrastle  with  the  spirit,  and  so  on ;  and  the  old  women 
began  to  whisper  and  look  coonish  ;  and  at  last  —  for  I 
don't  want  to  go  into  pitikilars,  for  it  ain't  an  overly  pleas^ 
ant  subject  —  I  got  a  notice  to  make  myself  scarce  from 
Judge  Lynch  ;  and  as  I  knowed  a  little  grain  more  about  the 
matter  than  they  did,  and  guessed  the  secret  would  soon  be 
obleeged  to  be  known,  I  felt  my  jig  was  up,  and  I  jist  took 
the  hint  and  made  tracks.     Tlien  I  hooked  on  to  the  Cor- 

rornites,  and   iicie  I  am   among  them,  I  must  say,  rather 

8 


i 


il 


.1.,  i; 


i:':f- 


r* 

iLi 

178 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   J0ING3. 


takin'  the  lead.    Folks  actilly  do  say  I  take  the  rag  off  quite, 
all  along  up  and  down  Maine  and  Varmont,  and  a  piece  be- 
yond ;  but  I  can  *t  stand  it ;  1  shall  die ;  the  excitement  is 
too  much  for  me.     I  have  endured  more  already  than  a 
dead  nigger  in  a  doctor's  shop  could  stand.     Livin'  so  long 
in  a  hot  climate,  I  ha'n't  strength  for  it,  and  I  am  fairly 
used  up  and  worn  out.     What  do  you  think  of  socialism  ? 
it  seems  as  if  it  would  go  down,  that.     It's  gittin' kinder 
fashionable.     Owen  writes  me  word  he  has  been  introduced 
to  court  to  England,  of  which  he  is  proper  proud,  and  a 
nation  sight  of  people  patronize  it  since,  a  complete  swad 
of  them.     He  says  it  will  trip  the  heels  of  the  church  yet, 
let  the  bishops  do  their  prettiest,  for  socialists  have  votes  as 
well  as  other  folks,  and  must  be  courted,  and  are  courted, 
and   will  be  courted,  all  through   the  piece.      He  seems 
quite  up  in  the  stirrups,  and  jist  dares  them  to  prosecute 
him.     I  have  had  liberal  offers  from  the  sect  here ;  for 
whatever  is  the  go  to  Europe  will  soon  be  the  chalk  here; 
and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  feel  most  peskily  inclined  to 
close  with  them,  for  them  rational  religionists  live  like  men, 
and  ain't  so  everlastin'  strait-laced  in  matters  of  the  heart 
as  others  be,  nother.     In  fact,  they  are  jist  about  the  most 
liberal  sect  I  know  on.     Now,  tell  me  candid,  has  it  a  bot- 
tom, or  is  it  a  bam  1     Will  it  stand,  or  will  public  opinion 
be  too  strong  for  it?  for  I  don't  want  to  embark  on  board 
a  leaky  ship;  when  I  spikilate  I  like  to  have  the  chances 
in  my  favor.     *  Well,  Ahab,'  says  I,  '  you  make  me  crawl 
like  all  over,  to  hear  you  talk  so  loose,  so  you  do  ;  what  a 
devil  of  a  feller  you  be ;  you  are  actilly  bad  enough  to  be 
nigger-in-law  to  old  Scratch,  you  are  so  bad ;  you  have 
tried  every  sect  there  is,  a'most,  and  now  you  talk  of  turnin 


'"■■•'■"'•• '"" 


■I 


AN   OLD    FRIEND   WITH    A    NEW    FACE. 


179 


infidel,  as  coolly  as  of  turnin'  into  bed.  Give  up  preachin', 
you  ain't  fit  for  it,  nor  never  was,  and  more  nor  that,  you 
lia'n't  Btrengtli  for  it.  If  you  don't  mind,  you'll  go  for  it 
yet.  Go  where  you  ain't  known,  and  either  go  tradin'  or  go 
farmin'.' — '  Too  hard  work,  Sam,'  said  he,  '  too  hard  work ; 
but  socialism  strikes  me  as  rather  genteel,  while  the  work  is 
light,  the  pay  good,  and  religious  liherty  great.  Jist  hand 
me  the  brandy  tho,  that's  a  good  feller,  please.  I  must 
take  some  clear,  for  that  eggnog  is  cold  and  heavy  on  the 
stomach ;'  and  he  drank  off  near  about  half  a  pint  without 
winkin'.  '  No,'  said  he,  '  no  ox-carts  for  me,  Sammy,  boy ; 
no,  nor  backy,  nor  cotton  nother ;  they  are  low,  very  low, 
them.  Corcoran,  the  head  of  our  sect,  is  in  jail.  They 
are  a-goin'  to  give  him  a  berth  in  the  stateprison.  It 's 
all  day  with  him  now  ;  and  I  must  say  it  kinder  sarves  him 
right  for  not  takin'  up  his  killock,  when  he  seed  he  was 
a-gitten  into  such  an  almighty  frizzle  of  a  fiz.  What 's  the 
use  of  legs  but  to  absquotilate  with,  like  a  jumpin'  bullfrog 
when  traps  are  sot  for  you.  What  I  want  to  know  is, 
whether  so — so — social — socialism  ca — an  stand  or  no  V — 
'  Not  much  better  than  you  can,  I  expect,'  says  I,  for  he 
was  blind  drunk  now,  and  as  dumb  as  a  wooden  clock  two 
years  old ;  and  I  lifted  him  on  the  bed  with  all  his  runnin* 
riggin'  on,  and  there  he  was  this  mornin'  when  I  got  up, 
a-snorin'  like  a  sizeable  buffalo.  Oh,  squire,"  said  the  clock- 
maker,  '*  that  are  Ahab  has  made  me  feel  dreadful  ugly,  I 
tell  you.  Old  times  kinder  touches  the  heart ;  I  look  on 
my  old  classmates  like  brothers,  and  I  don't  feel  sorter 
riglit  when  I  see  one  on  'em  actin'  like  old  Scratch  that 
way.  A  bad  man  is  bad  enough,  the  Lord  knows ;  but  a 
had  minister  beats  the  devil,  that's  as  plain  as  preachin'," 


hi.   i.{ 

VIM 


■'W* 


i^ 


I 


180 


8AM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND  DOINGS. 


CHAPTER   XV. 


M 


Gi» 


ti 


THE    UNRURIED    ONE. 

As  we  approached  Boston,  Mr.  Slick  said,  "  Ah,  squire ! 
now  you  will  see  as  pretty  a  city  as  we  have  this  side  of 
the  water.  I'liere  is  a  good  many  folks  worth  seein'  here, 
and  a  good  many  curiosities  of  natur',  too.  T'  re's  the 
statehouse,  and  old  Funnel,  and  Charleston  college,  and 
the  market-place,  and  the  wharf  they  give  to  the  British 
steamer  (an  act  of  greater  liberality  p'raps  than  you'll  find, 
I  estimate,  in  the  world),  and  ever  so  many  things.  Then 
there  's  Mount  Auburn.  Lord,  the  French  may  crack  and 
boast  as  much  as  they  please,  about  their  *  Pair  o'Shaise,' 
b'lt  it's  no  touch  to  it.  Why,  I  never  was  so  disappointed 
in  anything  in  all  my  life,  since  I  was  broughten  up,  as 
that  are  Paris  buryin'-ground.  It  looks  for  all  the  icorld 
like  an  old  mined  town,  ichere  the  hottses  are  all  gone,  and 
the  porches,  and  stcj^s,  and  dog-hennels,  are  left.  It  ha'n't 
no  interest  in  it  at  all,  except  the  names  o'  them  that's 
buried  there;  but  Mount  Auburn  is  worth  seein'  for  itself. 
It's  actilly  like  pleasure-ground,  it's  laid  out  so  pretty,  and 
is  the  grandest  place  for  courtin'  in  I  know  on,  it's  so  ro- 
mantic. Many  a  woman  that's  lost  one  husband  there  has 
found  another  in  the  same  place.  A  widower  has  a  fine 
chance  of  seein'  widders  there,  and  then  nobody  ever  sus- 
pects them  of  courtin*,  bein'  that  they  are  both  in  black, 
but  takes  'em  for  mourners,  and  don't  intrude  on  'em  out 


li 


THE   UNBURTED   ONE. 


181 


of  pity.     I'll  go  a  bet  of  (»no  Imiidicd  dollars  the  women 

invented  that  place,  for  they  beat  all  natur'  for  contrivances, 

so   th,'y  do.     Yes,  squire,  if  you  have  a  mind  for  a  rich 

young  widder,  clap  a  crape  weeper  on  your  hat,  and  a  white 

nose-rag  in  your  hand,  and  go  to  Mount  Auburn,  and  you'll 

see  some  heavenly  splices  there,  I  tell  you,  in  some  o'  them 

arc  shady  walks,  that  will  put  all  the  dead  in  creation  out  of 

your  head  a'niost.    Them  saller-lookin',  garlic-eatin'  French 

heifers  you  see  to  I'air-o'-Shaise'  may  have  better  top-gear, 

and  better  riggin'  in  gineral  than  our  gals,  and  so  they  had 

ouglit,  seein'  that  they  think  of  nothin'  else  but  dress ;  bu* 

can  they  show  such  lips,  and  cheeks,  and  complexions,  that' 

all,  or  such  clinker-built  models  ?     No,  not  them,  nor  any 

other  women  of  any  other  nation  in  the  univarsal  world. 

If  they  can,  it's  some  place  that's  not  discovered  yet,  that's 

all  I  can  say,  and  you  must  go  a  leetle  further  than  the 

eend  of  the  airth  to  find  them,  for  they  ain't  this  side  of  it. 

You  must  see  Mount  Auburn  to-morrow,  squire,  that 's  a 

fact ;  but  then,  leave  your  heart  to  home,  to  the  TVcmont, 

as  folks  do  their  watches  when  they  go  to  the  thentre  to 

London,  or  you  will  lose  it  as  sure  as  you  are  born.     Oh, 

there  is  a  sartain  somethin'  about  Boston  that  always  make 

an  American  feel  kinder  proud.     It  was  the  cradle  of  our 

cradle.     The  voice  of  our  young  eagle  was  first  heard  here, 

and  at  Bunker's  hill,  which  is  near  the  town,  it  gave  the 

British  the  first  taste  of  its  talons. 

"  '  Newburyport  's  a  rocky  place, 
And  Salem  's  very  sandy, 
Charlestown  is  a  pretty  town, 
But  Boston  is  the  dandy.' 

I   guess   the   English   must   feel   most    awful   streaked 

when " 


i'^-j 


M 


a!  vii  k 


182 


SAM   RUCK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


i 


!(' 


*  "■' 


\  r 


f: 


i      ^rl 


Ml 


l''  i,k  * 


To  divert  him  fr^m  a  topic  on  which  his  national  vanity 
always  made  him  appear  ridiculous,  I  observed,  that  "  I 
believed  there  was  one  opinion  among  strangers  about  Boa- 
ton,  wlio  were  always  much  pleased  with  the  place  and  its 
society,  but  that  I  was  not  myself  fond  of  cities  as  cities. 
Long  streets    and  broad  streets,"  said  I,  "  walls  of  brick 
and  mortar,  and  stones  heaped  on  stones,  have  few  charms 
for  me.     Even  architectural  beauty  is,  after  all,  but  the 
effect  of  a  judicious  aiTangement  of  poor  materials.     It  is 
good  of  its  kind,  but  not  one  of  those  things  I  most  admire. 
It  may  have  many  component  parts  of  beauty ;   it  may 
combine  lightness,  strength,  proportion,  and  so  on.     The 
general  effect  may  be  good,  criticism  may  be  satisfied,  and 
the  eye  dwell  on  it  with  complacency.    You  may  be  willing 
to  concede  to  it  the  usual  terms  of  praise.     You  may  say  it 
is  grand,  or  magnificent,  or  exquisite,  or  beautiful.     You 
may  laud  the  invention,  the  judgment,  and  skill  of  the 
architect ;   you  may  say,  in  short,  that  your  artificial  and 
acquired  taste  for  architectural  beauty  is  gratified  and  con- 
tent (an  admission,  by-the-by,  which  it  is  very  rare  to  hear), 
but  still  it  is  but  the  work  of  the  hodsman  and  mason.     I 
do  not  mean  to  underrate  its  importance,  because,  as  a  great 
part  of  mankind  must  dwell  in  cities,  and  all  must  live  in 
houses,  few  things  are  of  greater  consequence  than  the  ap- 
pearance of  those  cities  and  houses ;  and  order,  syi  imetry, 
and  the  general  adaptation  of  the  parts  to  each  other,  and 
to   the  whole,  are  matters  of  deep  interest  to  us  all.    I 
merely  mean  to  say,  that  the  most  beautiful  building  is  but 
a  work  of  art,  and  that,  as  such,  it  gives  me  less  pleasure 
than  many  other  works  of  art,  and  that  it  falls  so  immeas- 
urably short  of  the  works  of  nature,  of  which  I  am  a  great 


s^^s 


THE    UNBUBIED   ONE. 


183 


arlmirer,  I  fear  I  do  not  derive  all  that  pleasure  from  it  that 
it  is  capable  of  affording.     I  like  cities,  therefore,  not  for 
themselves,  but  as  a  gregarious  animal  for  the  greater  num- 
ber of  my  own  species  they  contain,  and  for  the  greater  op- 
portunity they  afford  me  of  meeting  the  idem  velle  and  idem 
nolle  people,  among  whom  only,  we  are  told  by  a  very  com- 
petent judge,  is  to  be  found  true  friendship.     But,  even  in 
this  case,  I  am  not  sure  I  do  not  lose  in  quality  as  much  as 
I  gain   in  quantity  ; '  for  I  fear  that  though   there  be  more 
refinement  in  the  citizen,  there  is  less  heart  than  in  the 
countryman.     Before  you  can  impart  its  brightness  to  steel, 
you  must  harden  its  texture ;   and  the  higher  the  polish,  the 
more  indurated  you  will  find  the  substance.     By  this  process 
it  lo^es  its  pliability  and  acquires  brittleness,  and  its  strength 
is  diminished  in  proportion  to  its  beauty.     It  is  a  gay  de- 
ceiver.    It  flatters  your  vanity  by  its  devotion  to  yourself. 
Its  smooth  and  brilliant  service  will   reflect  your  image 
uhilc  present,  but  the  very  operation  of  refinement  has  de- 
stroyed its  susceptibility  of  an  impression.     It  is  your  own 
smile  that  is  returned  to  you,  but  it  refuses  to  retain  it  when 
you  cease  to  look  upon  it.     As  a  lover  of  nature,  therefore, 
I  love  the  country  and  the   man  that  inhabits  it.     I  find 
more  of  beauty  in  the  one,  and  of  generous  impulses  in  the 
other,  than  I  find  in  cities  or  in  courtiers." 

'  I  reciprocate  that  idee,"  said  the  clockmaker.  "  Give 
me  the  folks  that  like  '  human  natur','  and  '  soft-sawder.* 
Tliem  critturs  in  towns,  in  a  gineral  way,  have  most  com- 
monly cut  their  eye-teeth,  and  you  can't  make  nothiu 
of  them.  There  is  no  human  natur'  in  them  to  work  on ; 
and  as  for  soft-sawder,  they  are  so  used  to  it  themselves,  it 
seems  to  put  'em  on  their  guard  like.     They  jist  button  up 


mm 


„».L^J! 


i^^-' 

m^' 


0 


m> 


1\  IV' 


I! 


,;   1 

If 
I 


If' 


I   I 


l84 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


their  pockets,  and  wrinkle  up  their  foreheads,  and  look  on 
you  with  their  eyts  wide  apart,  onnieanin'-like,  as  if  they 
warn't  attendin',  and  bow  you  out.  Nothin'  makes  me  feel 
so  onswoggled  as  one  of  the  '  I  guess-you-may-go'  kind  of 
staref  ;  it 's  horrid.  But  as  for  our  country  folks,  Lord  ! 
you  can  walk  right  into  'em  like  nothin*.  1  swear  I  could 
row  a  boat-load  on  'em  cross-handed  right  up  agin  the 
stream  in  no  time.  Boston  is  a  fine  town,  that 's  sartain, 
tho'  I  won't  jist  altogether  say  it 's  better  nor  Edinboro', 

nor  Dublin  nother  ;  but  it 's "     "  Talking  of  Dublin," 

said  I,  "  reminds  me  of  the  singular  story  I  overheard  you 
telling  some  countryman  in  Nova  Scotia  of  the  remarkable 
state  -of  preservation  in  which  the  dead  bodies  are  found 
under  St.  Michan's  church,  and  especially  the  anecdote  of 
the  'Two  Shears's;'  was  that  a  fact,  or  one  of  your  fanci- 
ful illustrations  given  for  the  sake  of  eflPect  ?" — "Fact, 
squire,  I  assure  you,"  said  he,  "  and  no  mistake :  I  seed  it 
M'ith  my  own  eyes  no  longer  than  two  years  agone.  Gos- 
pel, every  word  of  it."  —  "You  mentioned  there  was  a 
female  exhibited  with  them  in  the  same  perfect  state  — 
vrho  was  she?" — "Oh!  she  was  a  nun,"  said  he;  "she 
had  been  there  the  matter  of  the  Lord  knows  how  many 
years  a-kickin'  about,  and  nobody  knew  her  name,  or  who 
her  folks  were,  or  where  the  plague  she  come  fiom.  All 
they  knowd  was  she  was  a  nun  that  wouldn't  let  no  one 
see  so  much  as  the  color  of  her  eyes  while  she  lived,  but 
made  up  bravely  for  it  arter  she  was  dead.  If  you  had 
only  a-heerd  how  it  made  the  old  sea-captain  rave  like  a  mad 
poet  at  the  full  of  the  moon,  it  would  have  made  you  laugh, 
I  know.  I  sot  him  a-goin'  on  purpose ;  for  nothin'  pleases 
me  BO  much  as  to  see  an  old  feller  try  to  jump  Jim  Crow  ip 


^B 


uilWWUHUyww 


^2^ffl 


THE  UNBURIED   ONE. 


185 


an  oratioi.  So,  says  I,  'Captain,'  says  I,  'tbat  are  nun 
warn't  a  bad-lookin'  heifer  in  her  day  nether,  was  she  ?  a 
rael,  right  down,  scrumptious-lookin'  piece  of  farniture,  and 
no  mistake ;  but  what  in  natur'  was  the  use  of  her  veilin' 
her  face  all  her  life  to  keep  off  the  looks  of  sinful,  carnal 
man,  if  they  Avon't  veil  her  arter  she  is  dead,  and  no  one 
wants  to  look  at  her.  Oh,  dsar !  oh,  dear !  if  hhe  could 
only  wake  up  now  and  see  us  two  great  he  fellers  a-ctand- 
in'  starin'  at  her  full  in  the  face,  what  an  everlastin'  hub- 
bub she  would  make,  wouldn't  she?  If  she  wouldn't  let 
go,  and  kick,  and  squeel,  and  carry  on  like  ravin'  distracted 
mad,  it 's  a  pity,  that 's  all.  I  say.  Miss  Stranger,'  said  I, 
a-turnin'  to  our  female-guide,  and  a-chuck\n'  her  onder  the 
chin, '  now  what  do  you  estimate  is  the  first  thing  that  are 

gall  would  do  in  that  case  —  would  she— '  but  the  old 

ongainly  heifer  pretended  to  take  a  fit  of  the  modest  all  at 
once,  and  jist  turned  toward  the  door,  and,  by  ^lingin'  the 
lamp  closer  to  her  body,  threw  the  corpses  and  that  corner 
of  the  cellar  into  darkness,  and  then  axin'  us  if  we'd  like  to 
see  the  next  vault,  led  us  right  up  into  the  churchyard. 
When  we  got  out  into  the  air,  says  the  old  sea-captain,  '  I 
agree  with  you,  Mr.  Slack.' — 'Slick,  sir,  if  you  please,  is 
my  name.' — '  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Clack,  then.' — 
'No,  nor  Mr.  Clack  nother,'  says  I;  'it's  Slick  —  Sam 
Slick  is  my  name !'  a-raisiu'  of  my  voice  till  the  buildin' 
actilly  gave  an  echo  agin,  for  the  crittur  was  as  deaf  as  a 
(sliad.  '  I  am  from  Slickville,  Onion  county,  Conne'ticut, 
United  States  of  America.' — '  Well,  Mr.  Slick.' — 'Ah,  now 
you  have  it,'  said  I;  '  yor  've  got  it  to  a  T.'— -' To  a  T!' 
said  he  (the  old  soft  horn),  *  how  is  that  ?  I  really  do  n't 
onderstand  how  you  have  a  T  in  it  at  all.' — '  Oh,  dear !'  said 

6* 


■i    '     ''»'  ti 


<>  ,'  i„»t)  ■vf   .1} 


f 


:;'t  ■•  '    ^i:if'  ;!lf 


ili, 


WkM'<i  !ii 


I 


iscj 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


ii 


» if* 


m 


I 


if 

r. 

m 
ii 


!■■'( 


If 

i 


II  :■ 


1! 


I,  'no  more  we  have;  it's  notliin'  but  a  sayin'  of  ourn,  a 
kind  of  provarb  ;  it 's  a  cant  phrase.' — '  Ah,  cant  h  it  V  said 
ho,  with  a  face  a  yard  long ;  '  then  you  must  permit  me  to 
obsarve,  tliat  you  are  one  of  tlie  last  men,  judging  from  your 
remarks,  that  I  shouhl  have  supposed  to  have  had  anything 
about  you  approaching  to  cant;  but  I  fully  concur  with 
you  that  the  exhibition  of  this  female  is  not  decent.  I 
should  not  have  observed  myself,  unl>-;8  you  had  called  my 
attention  to  the  corpse,  that  it  was  a  female.' — 'No,  I  sup- 
pose not,'  says  I ;  *  and  there  's  not  one  mite  or  morsel  of 
cant  in  that,  I  suppose,  at  all.  How  innocent  we  are,  not 
to  know  a  hawk  from  a  handsaw,  ain't  we  V — *  Speak  a  lit- 
tle louder,'  said  the  old  man,  *  if  you  please,  sir,  for  I  ha^^e 
the  misfortin'  to  be  a  leetle  hard  of  hearin'.' — '  I  was  sayin', 
sir,'  said  I,  'that  I  don't  know  as  I  should  nother,  if  that 
are  woman  that  showed  'em  to  us  had  n't  a-said,  '  iJcautiful 
crater,  your  honor,  that  same  nun  must  !iave  been  in  her 
day.  The  jontlemen  all  admire  her  very  much  entirely. 
They  say  she  looks  like  a  statue,  she  does." 

•"  Well,  M'ell,'  said  the  captain,  kinder  snappishly,  'who- 
ever she  was,  poor  crittur,  the  exhibition  is  improper.  She 
has  the  reputation  of  having  been  a  nun,  who,  whatever 
may  be  the  errors  of  their  creed  that  induce  them  volun- 
tarily to  quit  a  world  into  Avhich  they  are  sent  with  certain 
social  duties  to  perform,  have  at  least  the  merit  of  a  sincere 
devotion,  and  their  motives  are  to  be  respected.  As  in  litie 
^hey  are  scrupulous  in  the  observance  of  all  the  most  min- 
iie  proprieties  of  conduct,  they,  of  all  others,  seem  to  have 
the  greatest  claim  to  be  exempted  from  this  degrading  ex- 
posure after  death.  Decay,  however,  has  now  commenced, 
and  will  soon  remove  all  trace  of  humanity.     Corruption, 


!BC 


■PIP 


mtum'mm'^imivmmimm 


BE 


"WWi'JM 


THE    UNBURIED   ONE. 


187 


according  to  that  beautiful  idea  of  Scripture,  will  assert  it's 
claim  of  kindred,  and  the  worm  proclaim  liimself  her 
brother,  ^las !  where  now  are  the  gay  and  thoughtless 
crowd  that  thronged  to  witness  the  gorgeous  and  solemn 
spectacle  of  a  young,  beautiful,  and  innocent  sister,  assu- 
ming that  veil  that  was  to  separate  her  from  the  world  for 
ever?  Where  arc  the  priests  that  officiated  at  the  altar 
—  the  sisterhood  that  rejoiced  in  receiving  —  the  relatives 
that  grieved  at  surrendering  this  sacrifice  1  and  they,  too, 
whose  voices  pealed  forth  the  hymn  of  praise,  and  poured 
out  the  tide  of  sacred  song  to  the  echoing  aisles  —  where 
are  they  ?  All,  all  have  passed  away  !  and  none,  no,  not 
one,  is  left  of  all  that  assembled  crowd  to  disclose  her  line- 
age or  her  name.  Their  rolls  have  perished  with  them, 
and  all  that  now  remains  is  this  unclaimed,  unknown,  name- 
less one.  Poor  thing!  has  indignant  humanity  asserted  its 
rights?  hath  the  vindictive  world  rejected  thee,  as  thou 
rejected  ii,?  or  why  art  thou  here  alone,  unhonored  and  un- 
known ?  Alas  !  is  there  no  distinction  between  the  gallows 
and  the  cloister]  is  it  fitting  that  thou,  whose  life  was  a  life 
of  penance  and  of  prayer,  whose  pure  mind  communed  only 
with  heavenly  objects,  should  now  consort  with  convicted 
criminals,  and  that  thy  fair  form  should  be  laid  with  the 
headless  trunks  of  traitors  ?  Ah,  me  !  thou  hast  returned, 
pooi;, houseless  thing  !  to  thine  own,  and  thine  own  knows 
thee  no  more !  I  have  seen  the  grave  open  to  receive  its 
tenant,  and  the  troubled  sea  its  dead,  and  the  green  turf 
and  the  billowy  wave  fold  them  in  its  bosom,  to  sleep  the 
slaep  that  knows  no  waking.  All  have  their  resting-place, 
save  thee !  Ambition  has  its  temple,  and  wealth  its  tomb, 
while  even  the  poor  are  cared  for  ;  but  thou,  how  is  it,  fair 


nm 


"^^apmp 


lllll 


188 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


I' 


one,  that  thou  alone  of  all  thy  sex  should  be  left  the  "  un- 
buried  one" — the  greedy  sexton's  show,  and  the  vile  scof- 
fer's viler  jest  ?  Who  art  thou?  History  can  find  a  place  for 
treason  and  for  crime  —  could  it  afford  no  space  for  self- 
denying  virtue  such  as  thine?  Was  there  no  pious  hand 
to  grave  thy  name  on  unpretending,  monumental  stone  ? 
none  of  all  thy  father's  house  to  perform  the  last  sad  rites 
of  affection  —  to  restore  to  the  earth  what  was  earthy  —  to 
the  dust,  dust  —  and  ashes  to  ashes?  All,  all  are  silent! 
and  even  tradition,  garrulous  as  it  is,  has  but  one  short 
word  for  thee  —  a  nun  !' 

"  Arter  spinnin'  this  yarn,  the  old  sea-captain  turned  off 
to  examine  the  tombstones  in  the  churchyard,  and  I  mount- 
ed the  car  to  the  gate  and  drove  off  to  the  hotel.  There 
was  some  feelin'  and  some  sense,  too,  in  what  he  said,  tho' 
he  did  rant  a  few,  warn't  there?  but  as  for  his  goin'  to 
make  believe  he  did  n't  know  she  was  a  woman,  that  is 
what  I  must  say,  now,  1  call  a  most  superfine  bam,  that. 
Old  fellers  always  think  young  ones  fools ;  but  young 
fellers  sometimes  knoiv  old  ones  is  fools.  Now,  who  'd 
a-thought,  squire,"  he  continued,  "that  that  are  old  boy 
would  have  flowed  right  off  the  handle  that  way  for  noth- 
in'  at  all,  at  seein'  that  queer,  parchment-colored,  wilted, 
old,  onfakilized  nun.  I  think,  myself,  they  might  as  well 
bury  her  ;  and  if  they'd  ship  her  out  to  minister,  I  don't 
make  no  doubt  he'd  bury  her  hisself  in  Mount  Auburn;  or 
to  Brother  Eklad,  and  he  'd  stick  her  up  in  a  museum  for 
a  show,  as  they  do  Mothci  Barchell,  at  Surgeons'  hall, 
to  London ;  but  as  for  her  nam*',  who  the  plague  cares 
what  it  is?  I  am  sure  I  don't.  I  wouldn't  give  a  cent  to 
know,  would  you  ?     It  sounded  kinder  pretty,  that  talk  o^ 


^s 


i;7--T"TiB-fri 


THE   UNBURIED   ONE. 


189 


liis,  too.  Lord  !  I  wish  Sister  Sail  had  a-been  there ;  if 
she  had  a-been,  he  'd  a-sot  her  a-boohooin'  in  no  time,  I 
know,  for  she  is  quite  romantic  is  Sail,  and  a  touch  of  the 
pathetic  is  what  she  does  love  dearly.  Whenever  she 
comes  across  a  piece  of  dictionary  like  that  are,  she  marks 
it  with  a  pencil,  and  gets  it  by  heart,  and  goes  a-spoutin' 
of  it  about  the  house  like  mad.  '  Ain't  that  fine,  Sam  V  says 
she;  'ain't  it  splendid?  it's  sublime,  I  declare;  it's  so  feel- 
in'  and  so  true.'  And  if  I  won't  go  the  whole  figur'  with 
her,  she  gets  as  mad  as  a  hatter.  *  You  han't  got  no  soul 
in  you  at  all,  Sam,'  says  she  ;  *  I  never  seed  such  a  crittur ; 
I  do  not  believe  in  my  heart  you  think  of  nothin'  but  dol- 
lars and  cents.' — *  Well,  then,  I  say,'  says  I,  *  do  n't  be  so 
peskily  riled,  Sally  dear;  but  raelly  now,  as  I  am  a  livin' 
sinner,  I  do  n't  jist  exactly  onderstand  it ;  and,  as  you  are 
more  critical  than  I  be,  jist  p'int  out  the  beauties,  that 's  a 
dear  love,  will  you?  and  see  if  I  don't  admire  it  every 
mite  and  morsel  as  much  as  you  do,  and  maybe  a  plaguy 
sight  more.'  Well,  I  get  her  to  set  down  and  go  over  it 
all  ever  so  slow,  and  explain  it  all  as  clear  as  mud,  and 
then  she  says,  '  Now,  do  you  see,  Sam,  aint  it  horrid  pret- 
ty V — '  Well,'  says  I,  '  it  does  sound  grand  like,  that  I 
must  say ;'  and  then  I  scratch  my  head  and  look  onfgki- 
lized ;  'but  how  did  you  say  that  was,  dear?'  says  I, 
a-p'intin'  to  the  top  line;  'I  don't  jist  altogether  mind 
how  you  explained  that.' — '  Why,  you  stupid  crittur,  you !' 
ohe  says,  'this  way;'  and  then  she  goes  over  it  all  agin, 
word  for  word.  'Now,  do  you  onderstand,'  says  she,  'you 
thick-head,  you  ?  Ain't  that  beautiful?  don't  that  paf's  ?' 
•-  '  X  -  '  says  I,  '  it  does  pass,  that's  a  fact,  for  it  passes  all 
oiJ;^rsr  ..'din';   but   you  wouldn't  jist  explain  once  more 


vMm 


iim 


■  t 


''  HI' 


i-'iji 


I'i^ii 


m'M 


11 


n'liv;,.    ; 


f^m 


i, 


■Ml  % 


■H 


190 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


■would  you,  dear  V  and  I  looks  up  wicked  and  winks  at  her. 
•Weil,  now,  if  that  ain't  too  bad,'  she  says,  'Sam,  I  de- 
clare, to  make  game  of  me  that  way.  If  I  hadn't  a-beon 
as  blind  as  a  bat,  I  might  have  seed  with  half  an  eye  you 
was  a-bammin'  of  me  the  whole  blessed  time,  so  I  might; 
but  I  '11  never  speak  to  you  agin,  now,  see  if  I  do  ;  so  there 
now  !'  and  away  she  goes  out  of  the  room  a-poutin'  like 
any  thin'.  It's  grand  fun,  that,  and  don't  do  a  gall  no 
harm  nother,  for  there  is  nothin'  like  V  fin'  a  strip"  ^''  : 
kite,  when  it's  a-gettin'  away  out  of  i  •'.:  >'  ^ost.  tc  ';iT:^ 
it  down  agin.  Of  all  the  seventeen  vf??Tr.-,  like  (■-,mtro'' 
sense  ahont  as  ivell  as  any  on  *em,  arte,  u  '. ,  now^  dot  t  yn.. 
squire .?" 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


m  Vl 


III 


%. 


V 


DEFINITION    OF    A    GFNTLKMAN. 

On  our  arrival  at  Boston,  we  drove  to  the  Tremont  house, 
which  is  not  only  one  of  the  first  of  its  kind  in  the  United 
States,  but  decidedly  one  of  the  best  in  the  world.  As  our 
time  was  limited,  we  proceeded,  as  soon  as  we  could,  to  visit 
the  several  objects  of  interest  in  the  city  and  its  neighbor- 
hood, and  among  the  rest  Bunkcr'H  hill,  MJicrti,  Mr.  flb'ck 
observed,  "the  British  got  a  taste  of  what  tliey  afterwiird 
got  a  bolly-full."  The  hill  was  surmounted  by  nn  inilin- 
ished  monument,  which,  he  riiIiI,  it  was  iiitended  shnnld  ex- 
ceed in  height  the  nionumeiit  in  \\\\\  r|(}'  (i('  hniidnn,  as  the 
Yankees  Avent  a  head  of  the  Knglisii  in  ever}  thing. 


&9.5Ei 


Bgppi"' 


DEFINITION   OF    A    CFNTLKMAN. 


191 


As  his  fatlier  had  been  present  at  the  battle,  it  was  natu- 
ral the  clockmaker  should  feel  a  pride  in  it ;  for,  by  prov- 
ing our  army  to  be  both  mortal  and  fallible,  it  had  a  great 
effect  on  the  subsequent  events  of  the  war.  In  his  exulta- 
tion, however,  he  seemed  to  forget  that  he  was  'alking  to 
a  British  subject,  who,  if  he  now  had  any  feeling  on  tlie 
subject,  could  only  have  wished  that  the  prudence  of  the 
general  had  equnlly  the  bravery  of  the  king's  troops.  As 
Bunker's  hill  was  the  scene  of  a  victory  won  by  British 
soldiers  under  the  most  difficult  and  trying  circumstances, 
I  was  pleased  to  see  the  erection  of  this  monument,  as  it  is 
a  tribute  to  their  valor  which  they  have  justly  merited. 
Why  the  Americans  should  have  thought  of  putting  it 
there,  T  am  at  a  loss  to  know,  when  there  are  many  other 
places  where  their  gallantry  was  not  only  equally  con- 
spicuous, but  crowned  with  signal  success.  In  this  case, 
however,  they  have  not  merely  selected  a  spot  where  they 
were  defeated,  but  one  which  is,  perhaps,  more  remarkable 
than  any  other  on  this  continent  for  that  indomitable  spirit 
and  reckless  courage  that  distinguishes  the  English. 

On  an  examination  of  the  ground  it  would  appear  that  a 
slight  detour  would  have  enabled  the  troops  to  have  routed 
the  rebel  army  with  great  ease  and  but  little  loss,  and  at 
tlie  same  time  effectually  to  have  cut  off  their  retreat.  In- 
stead of  adopting  this  obvious  mode  of  attack,  the  troops 
Mere  ordered  to  charge  up  the  steep  ascent  of  this  hilh 
il|mn  Mil  enemy  sennely  protected  by  their  entrenchments, 
a  service  wliich  tlicv  performed  under  a  most  murderous 
lire,  which,  from  the  nature  of  the  ground,  they  were  una- 
bh^  to  return  with  any  effect.  This  successful  effort  is  as 
deserving  of  commendation  as  the  conduct  of  the  officer  in 


W§: 


iiiii 


■'■•III  I 


I!. :;;./'  liilfill      ' 


s. 


r:p 


pp« 


192 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


1 

1 

T 

ll 

1 

9 

1 

i 

i!'    I. 


command  is  of  reprehension,  in  thus  wantonly  sacrificing 
his  men,  out  of  mere  bravado,  in  the  attainment  of  an  ob- 
ject wliich  could  be  followed  by  none  of  the  usual  conse- 
quences f)f  a  victory.  A  monument  to  perpetuate  the  rec- 
ollection of  this  gallant  feat  of  those  intrej)id  men,  by 
whomsoever  erected,  is  a  most  desirable  thing,  and  it  is 
gratifying  to  record  that  means  were  not  long  wanting  to 
complete  it  in  the  handsome  style  in  which  it  was  begun. 

On  our  return  to  the  hotel,  as  we  passed  the  bar,  Mr. 
Slick,  according  to  his  usual  custom,  stopped  to  take  some 
refreshment,  and  when  he  joined  me  again,  he  said : 
*'  Squire,  do  you  know  Peter  Barr  to  Quaco,  where  we 
stopped  ono  night  ?  Well,  he  is  Barr  by  name  and  bar  by 
natur',  for  he  is  the  waiter  to  a  most  excellent  one,  the 
Reneficacious  house.  I  reckon  he  is  the  most  gentleman- 
like man  in  all  New  Brunswick.  He  smfainAy  is  a  pol- 
ished man,  that ;  his  manners  are  about  the  best  I  ever  fell 
in  with.  It  does  one  good  to  see  him  enter  a  room,  he  does 
it  S3  pretty  ;  in  fact,  I  call  him  as  near  about  a  finished  gen- 
tleman as  I  know  on  ;   don't  you,  now  V 

I  said,  "  I  had  seen  the  person  he  alluded  to,  but  it  was 
not  customary  to  call  servants  finished  gentlemen,  and  that 
I  had  never  heard  the  term  applied  in  that  manner  before; 
that  he  was  no  doubt  a  very  attentive  and  civil  waiter,  and 
I  believe  an  honest  and  ercellent  servant,  but  that  finished 
manners  referred  to  a  very  different  state  of  society  from 
that  of  the  attendants  on  a  bar-room." 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  now  there  peeps  out  the  pride  of  the 
Englishman,  and  the  efi'ect  of  your  /political  institutions. 
Now,  with  us,  we  are  all  equal,  and  in  course  the  polish 
extends  very  considerable  thro'  all  the  different  grades  of 


¥: 


DEFINITION   OP   A   GENTLEMAN. 


193 


society,    especially    among    them    that   live    on    the    sea- 
board." 

"  How,"  said  I,  "  can  you  have  different  grades  if  you  are 
all  equal  ?  1  do  not  exactly  comprehend  that." — "  No," 
said  he,  "  the  fact  ts  you  do  not  understand  us.  Now,  take 
my  grade  ;  it's  what  you  call  a  clock-pedlar  in  the  scorny 
way  you  British  talk  of  things,  merely  because  my  trade 
extends  over  the  whole  country ;  but  take  my  grade  (I 
won't  speak  of  myself,  because  '  praise  to  the  face  is  open 
disgrace').  Well,  I  estimate  they  are  as  gentlemanlike 
men  as  you  will  find  in  the  world,  and  the  best  dressed 
too,  for  we  all  wear  finer  cloth  in  a  giueral  way  than  the 
British  do,  and  our  plunder  is  commonly  more  costly  than 
theirn  :  this  arises,  you  see,  from  our  bein'  on  a  footin'  with 
princes  and  nobles,  and  received  at  all  foreign  courts  as 
natur's  noblemen,  free  and  enlightened  citizens  of  the  great- 
est empire  on  the  face  of  the  airth.  Now,  I  could  go  where 
despisable  colonists  couldn't  go.  If  I  went  to  France  I 
should  go  to  our  embassador  and  say,  '  Embassador,  I  've 
come  to  see  the  ins  and  outs  of  Paris;  and  a  nasty,  dirty, 
tav/dry  place  it  is ;  it  ain't  to  be  named  on  the  same  day 
with  Philadelphia,  Nev/  York,  or  any  of  our  first  shop-cit- 
ies ;  but  as  I  fun  here,  1  'd  like  to  see  some  o'  their  big- 
bugs  :  show  us  their  king  ;  he  kept  school  once  to  our  coun- 
try, but  we  kinder  tiiought  he  didn't  speak  ae  good  French 
as  the  New  Orleans  folks ;  I  wonder  if  he  has  improved 
any.'  Well,  he'd  take  me  and  introduce  me  to  the  palace 
without  any  more  to  do  about  it,  and  king  and  me  would  be 
as  thick  a.s  two  thieves,  a-talkin'  over  his  old  scholars,  frog- 
soup,  and  what  not  of  the  ups  and  downs  of  refugee  life. 
Embassador  darsn't  refuse  7fie,  or  we'd  recall  him  for  not 


mi 


'■■';;■ ''■ft  *i;' 


m 


m 

:  ill 


11 

mi- 


■  ■•,r.'  ;il    «i 


UM I 


■■(■     ■'     : 


m 


194 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


rp 


■■.'■• -f 

if 


it 

Ik 


1::^ 


siipportin'  ihe   honor  of  tlie  nation.     Ktns^  darsn't  refns,* 

/tim,  or  we'd  go  to  war  with  liim  for  insultin'  the  Union - 

fact,  I  assure  you.     Creation  !     If  he  was  to  dare  to  refuse, 

he  'd  see  our  hair  rise  like  a  fightin'-cat's  back.    We  wonld't 

pine  and  whine  about  it  as  the  English  do  at  gittin'  their 

flag  insulted  by  the  French  and  us  great  folks,  and  then 

show  their  spunk  on  thenri  outlandish  petticoated  Chinese, 

like  a  coward  that  first  refuses  a  challenge,  and  then  comes 

home   and  licks  his  wife  to  prove  he  ain't  afeerd  ;  no,  not 

we   indeed:    we'd  declare   perpetual  non-intercourse  with 

France,  as  the  only  dignified  course,  and  they  might  keep 

their  silks  and  champagne  for  them  as  wants  them  ;  we  can 

manufacture  both  of  them  as  good  as  they  can.     Now  this 

gives  us  a  great  advantage  over  the  Tn!\fives  of  Europe,  and 

makes  it  work  so  that  any  man  of  my  grade  (I  don't  speak 

of  the  upper-crust  folks,  because  them  that  eat  their  pork 

and  greens  with  silver  forks  are  the  same  all  the  world  over; 

all  they  have  to  larn  is  how  to  spend  their  money  ginteely ; 

but  of  my  class,  that  has   to  larn  fust  how  to  make  it,  and 

then  how  to  keep  it)  is  ginerally  allowed  to  be  as  much  of 

a  gentleman  as  you'll  see  in  any  rank  in  Europe,  partiki- 

larly  when  he  sets  out  to  do  the  thing  in  best  style.     Of 

course,  when  people  are  at  their  work  they  must  have  their 

workin'  dress  on ;  but  when  they  ondertake  to  put  on  their 

bettermost  clothes  and  go  the  whole  figur',  I  want  to  know 

wh^'-e.  you'll  see  a  better  drest  man  than  one  of  my  craft, 

take  him  by  and  large,  from  his  hat  clean  away  down  to 

his  pump-shoes;   or  a  man  more  ready  when  his  dander  is 

up  to  take  offence  at  nothin'  a'most,  and  fight,  or  go  to  a 

first-rate  hotel  and  pay  five  dollars  a  bottle  for  his  wine. 

Country  folks  will  be  country  folks,  and  can 't  be  expected 


nmO^ 


DEFINITIONS   OP   A    GENTLEMAN. 


19S 


]'p|;:': 


to  be  otliorwise,  seoin'  that  they  don't  go  out  of  the  1  nsh, 
mid  can't  know  what  thoy  don't  see;  but  a  tradin'  man, 
that  roams  from  one  eend  of  the  states  to  t'other  eend  of 
the  provinces,  a-carryin'  his  own  wares  in  his  own  wagon, 
and  a-vendin'  of  'em  himself  from  house  to  house,  becomes 
a  polished  man  in  spite  of  his  teeth,  and  larns  to  despise 
spittin'  on  carpets  afore  company,  or  whitlin'  his  nails 
with  a  penknife,  as  much  as  count  this  or  lord  that. 
Tiiere  is  a  nateral  dignity  about  them,  arising  from  the 
dignity  of  freedom.  So  there  is  about  the  Ingians :  niin- 
ister  used  to  say,  that  there  was  an  ease  and  elegance 
of  motion  about  an  Indian,  that  nothin'  could  givo  a 
white  man  but  constant  intercourse  with  the  best  society, 
and  was  seldom  equalled  and  never  surpassed  even  at 
courts.  Tlie  crittur  is  onconstrained.  They  go  on  the  nil- 
ailmirari  system,  he  used  to  say  (for,  poor  old  man,  he  was 
always  introducin'  neck-and-crop  some  fag-eend  of  a  Latin 
line  or  another,  his  head  was  chock-full  and  runnin'  over 
with  larnin').  The  meanin'  of  that  is,  they  don't  go  starin' 
and  gapin'  about  the  streets  with  their  eyes  and  mouths 
wide  open,  like  musketeer-hawks,  as  if  they  never  seed  any- 
thing afore.  Now,  that's  the  way  with  us.  No  man  ever 
heerd  me  praise  anything  out  of  my  own  country  that  took 
the  shine  off  of  anything  we  had. 

"I've  often  heerd  the  ladies  say  to  England,  'Why, 
Mr.  Slick,  nothin'  seems  to  astonish  you  here  :  you  don't 
seem  to  praise  anything;  you  have  no  curosity  about  you. 
What  do  you  think  of  that  noble  structur',  St.  Paul's 
church?' — '  Pretty  well,'  said  I,  jist  as  if  we  had  a  thousand 
such;  'but  it's  gloomy  and  not  so  big  as  I  expected.' — 
'  But  Westminster  abbey,'  says  they,  •  don't  ttiat  surprise 


M»i|!/ij'.' 


m. 


iii:'?lffli«  ll 


a.H  ii 


fciijiiiiP 


|'.Hff!li'W| 


'ijiill'ifill'ilii 


■n 


a^ 


.>^   *  "^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


1.0 


12.5 


1.1 


KS  1^    112.2 
^   US,    mil  2.0 


1.25 


1.4 


pm. 


# 


/) 


>^. 


.> 


ey 


^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


^< 


LV> 


d 


^^ 


'\ 


:\ 


\ 


^_ 


c»^ 


23  WeST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


I'- 


196 


BAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


Ill 

i!ir 


I*.  I  II 

w  ■ 


l'4' 


J 


11111 . 


iit'^ 


you  ?  for  you  have  no  abbeys  in  America,  and  we  think 
that  must  appear  to  you  very  wonderful.' — '  Well,*  says  I, 
quite  cool,  like  a  corneysewer,  '  it 's  costly,  but  onconveni- 
ent,  for  a  large  congregation.  The  finish  is  rather  grim- 
crack,  and  so  is  its  farnitur',  and  them  old  tattered  banners 
in  the  chapel  look  for  all  the  world  li^ie  old  rags  we  tie  to 
sticks  m  the  cornfields  to  Slickville  to  frighten  away  the 
crows.  They  ain't  fit  for  a  meetin'-house  like  that  are; 
and  if  they  must  have  flags  hung  up  in  it,  as  we  do  them 
we  took  from  your  frigates,  in  a  ballroom,  they  might  as 
well  have  new  ones.' — 'Oh!'  says  they,  'did  you  ever? 
Then,'  says  they,  '  the  delightful  parks  round  the  noble- 
men's seats,  ain't  they  very  beautiful  1  you  must  be  aston- 
ished at  then\,  we  think.  Were  you  not  struck  on  entering 
them  with '  '  Struck  !'  says  I ;  '  oh,  yes  !  and  most  de- 
lightfully skeered,  too.  I  am  a  narvous  man,  and  some- 
times sing  out  afore  I  am  hit.  Few  people  is  so  skittish 
and  shy  so  bad  as  I  do.  Struck,  indeed !  No,  miss,  I 
warn't  struck.  I  'd  like  to  see  the  best  lord  that  ever  trod 
in  shoeleather  strike  me  for  enterin'  his  park,  or  so  much 
even  as  to  lay  the  weight  of  his  finger  on  me.  I  *d  soon 
lat  him  know  there  was  a  warrant  out  arter  him.  Heavens 
and  airth !  I  'd  chaw  him  right  up  like  mincemeat,  titles, 
stars,  garters,  and  all.  I  'd  knock  him  to  the  north  eend 
of  creation  in  less  time  than  a  cat  takes  to  lick  her  paw. 
Struck  !  why  the  very  thorts  of  it  sets  my  blood  all  in  a 
gallopin'  boih  I  don't  think  he'd  take  the  trouble  to  do 
it  a  second  time ;  for  I  'd  make  him  cut  dirt  as  if  he  heerd 
a  whole  team  of  thunderbolts  arter  him.  Me  struck,  and 
him  alive  to  brag  of  it !  Well,  I  sorter  guess  not.  No  one 
never  struck  mo,  miss,  since  I  first  sot  foot  in  England,  nor 


DEFINITION   OP  A  GENTLEMAN. 


197 


for  many  a  long  day  afore  nother.  That  pleasure  is  to 
come  yet.  Strikin'  a  stranger  ain't  thort  friendly  with  us, 
and  I  didn't  think  it  was  the  fashion  here.' — 'Why,  Mr. 
Slick,'  says  they,  *  han't  you  got  that  word  "  struck"  in  the 
states  ?  it  means  astonished,  strongly  aflfected.' — '  Oh,  yes  !' 
says  I,  '  to  be  sure,  "  struck  up  all  of  a  heap ;"  it 's  common 
when  used  in  j'inin*  hand  that  way,  but  never  stands  alone 
except  for  a  blow.'  The  truth  is,  I  know'd  well  enough 
what  she  meant  when  she  said  it,  but  I  answered  that  way 
jist  to  give  her  a  high  idea  of  my  courage ;  for,  I  suppose, 
she  thought  honor  was  only  found  in  Europe,  and  mainly 
among  officers,  thf^  bulk  of  whose  business  is  to  fight  when 
they  can't  help  it.  'Then,'  says  I,  'to  answer  your  ques- 
tion, miss,  I  have  seed  a  nateral  park,'  says  I,  '  to  home, 
stretchin'  clean  away  across  from  the  Atlantic  right  slap 
thro'  to  the  Pacific  ocean,  all  filled  with  deer,  and  so  big, 
these  English  parks  of  dwarf-trees  look  like  a  second 
growth  of  sprouts  on  the  edge  of  a  potato-diggin'  in  a  new 
clearin',  or  a  shelter-grove  in  a  pastur'.  Then,'  says  I, 
'  your  lakes  is  about  as  big  as  our  duck-ponds,  and  your 
rivers  tho  bigness  of  a  sizeable  creek  when  there  is  no 
freshets.' — '  But,'  says  they,  '  we  know  natur'  is  on  a  large 
scale  in  America,  and  your  rivers  and  trees  exceed  in  mag- 
nitude anything  of  the  kind  in  Europe ;  but  look  at  the 
beautiful  English  landscape,  the  rich  verdure,  the  high  cul- 
tivation, the  lawns,  the  shrubberies,  the  meadows,  and  the 
groves,  so  interspersed  as  to  produce  the  greatest  and  best 
effect.' — '  If  the  sun  ever  shined  on  it,'  said  I,  '  it  would  be 
scrumptious  enough,  I  do  suppose ;  but  it 's  heavy,  melan- 
choly, and  dull;  it  wants  light  in  the  landscape,  and  you 
han't  water  to  give  it,  nor  sun  nother.' — '  We  are  sorry,' 


198 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAIINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


1    \\ 


says  they,  'England  lias  notliin'  to  please  you.' — 'Haven't 
you  tho' ?'  says  I,  for  it,  don't  do  to  run  down  everything 
either,  especially  to  the  ladies  —  so,  says  I,  'Haven't  you 
tho'  ?  Oh  !'  says  I,  '  the  ladies,  I  must  say,  are  quite  equal 
to  ourn.'  It  was  a  whapper  that,  tho',  but  they  did  n't  know 
no  better ;  and  who  has  a  better  right  to  lie  than  them  that 
pays  taxes?  It  wouldn't  be  patriotic  to  say  they  were 
superior,  and  not  perlite  nor  true,  nother,  to  say  inferior, 
but  '  they  are  equal,'  says  I,  '  that 's  a  fact ;  and  that 's  no 
poor  compliment,  I  can  tell  you,  for  our  ladies  lick  ! — but 
I  say  nothin*.' 

**  Now,  that 's  what  I  call  about  right,  squire.  To  go 
wanderin*  and  starin'  about  and  admirin'  of  everything, 
shows  a  man  has  nothin'  to  hoine  worth  braggin'  of  or 
boastin'  about,  or  hasn't  seed  nothin'  of  the  world.  It 
would  make  Europeans  vain,  and,  cuss  them,  they  are  vain 
enough  and  proud  enough  already,  especially  the  English ; 
besides,  it  tain't  good  breedin',  and  ain't  patriotic.  I  like 
to  sustain  the  national  character  abroad,  and  give  foreigners 
a  proper  idea  of  our  enlightenment  and  freedom.  Bein' 
Btumpt  is  a  sure  mark  of  a  fool.  The  only  folks  among  us 
that's  ever  nonplushed,  is  them  just  caught  in  the  woods, 
and  some  o'  them,  I  will  say,  are  as  ignorant  as  a  Britisher; 
but  then  it's  only  them  as  never  seed  nothin'  but  bears  and 
Ingians.  I  mind  once  a  gall  we  hired  as  a  house-help. 
They  was  agued  out  of  the  West  was  her  family,  and  them 
that  the  Ingians  left  the  fever  was  doin'  for ;  so  they  cut 
and  runs,  and  come  to  Slickville.  Well,  she  stared  and 
pawed  at  everything  a'most,  and  actilly  was  the  most  on- 
genteelest  ciittur  ever  was  bvoughter*  out  from  among  the 
rattlesnakes.     Father  axed  her  one  day  at  dinner  to  hand 


i    i  . 


DEFINITION   OP  A   GENTLEMAN. 


199 


him  some  bread.     '  Did  yau  baul  for  anything',  old  man  V 

says  she,  •  or  was  it  the  old  woman  that  yelled  ?  for  yau 

and  Granny  Slick  speak  so  much  alike,  I  can  'it  tell,  unless 

I  see  your  jaus  a-movin',  which  it  is.' — •  I  asked  for  some 

bread,'  says  father.     Well,  what  does  she  do  but  ups  with 

the  head  of  the  loaf,  and,  stretchin'  out  her  arms,  takes  aim 

and  lets  fly  right  at  him;  and,  if  he  hadn't  a-been  pretty 

ixctire  in  fendin'  off,  it  would  have  hit  him  right  in  the  face, 

and  takin'  his  nose  off  so  clean  he  wouldn't  have  missed  it 

till  he  went  to  blow  it.     ♦  Why,  Suckey,'  says  he,  •  what 

on  airth  do  you  mean  by  that  are  !  why  don't  you  hand  it  V 

— *  Hand  it  i'  said  she  ;  '  I  never  heerd  of  such  a  way  as 

that.     Father  always  says  pitch,  and  when  we  want  a 

thing,  we  always  shy  it.     How  onder  the  sun  could  yau 

onload   a  cart  of  bricks,  if  yau  did  n't  pitch  and  catch  ? 

why,  it  would  take  a  month  of  Sundays.     If  people  always 

carried  everything  that  everybody  wanted,  they  might  be 

a-carryin'  to  all  etarnity.     Didn't  I  pitch  the  loaf  fair  for 

yaur  breadbasket  ?  where  the  plague  would  yau  have  it, 

eh  V     Then  she  was  always  axin'  what  a  thing  cost.     •  Is 

that  solid  silver  V  said  she,  a-lookin'  at  one  of  our  spoouo. 

'  To  be  sure,'  said  I,  '  rael  genwcine,  and  worth  five  dollars.* 

— 'Well,  I  want  to  know,'  said  she;  *yau  don't.     Half  a 

dollar  would  buy  a  spoon*  and  four  dollars  and  a  half  two 

lambs.     Why,  yaur  silver  spoons  are  a  rael  airthquake; 

what  a  power  of  money  they  do  swaller  up  !*     Then  she 

got  hold  of  tlie  gilt  pictur'-frame  I  had  minister's  likeness 

in.     'Dear,  dear,'  said  she,  'how  grand  !     Now,  is  that  all 

solid  gold  and  no  bam  ]  why,  it  would  buy  Deacon  Hiram 

Grumble's  overshot  sawmill  at  little  big  Snipe  swamp;  it 

would,  I  vow,  timber-ranges  and  all.     Why,  it  would  be  sx 


ymm 


11 


pi 


200 


8AM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


forten  to  a  poor  gall  like  me.  I  'd  gin  all  I  have  in  the 
world  for  that,  or  ever  shall  have ;  but,  then,  all  I  have  is 
a  f'catl)er-bcd,  a  side-saddle,  a  yearlin'-colt,  and  a  riflo.  Now, 
declare  solemn  —  that 's  a  good  soul,  Sam  —  is  that  all  solid, 
clear  gold,  without  cheatin',  or  only  pinchback,  like  the  ear- 
rings that  stingy  beast.  Pardon  Brag,  gave  Sister  Ambro- 
sia when  he  was  snuffin'  ashes  with  her  afore  they  was 
married  V — '  Why,  you  foolish  crittur,  no,'  said  I,  *  it  ain't. 
Whoever  heerd  tell  of  a  gold  frame.' — '  Ay,  ay,  my  young 
coon,'  said  she,  'or  a  silver-spoon  either.  I'll  take  my 
davy  it 's  only  pewter,  and  good  enough,  too.  I  guessed 
yau  only  said  so  to  appear  grand.'  She  know'd  no  better, 
poor  crittur^  for  she  was  raised  to  the  swamps  to  the  West 
among  the  owls  and  catamounts,  and  warn't  much  more  nor 
half  baked  at  no  time  nother.  We  couldn't  make  nothin' 
of  her,  her  independence  was  so  great,  and  her  ways  so 
countrified.  When  she  come,  she  had  but  one  frock,  and 
when  she  washed  it  at  night,  she  laid  a-bed  all  day  for  it  to 
dry  ;  she  did,  upon  my  soul !' 

•'  One  time  we  had  a  tea-squall  to  our  house,  and  Susan 
handed  about  the  tea.  Well,  she  got  thro*  this  well 
enough ;  but  what  does  she  do  arterward  but  goes  round 
among  the  company  with  the  sugar-bowl  in  one  hand,  and 
the  cream-jug  i)i  the  other,  sayin',  •  How  are  yau  oflF,  yau 
stranger  with  the  factory-coat,  for  sugar  V  and  *  Old  woman 
with  the  yaller  petticoat,  shall  I  milk  yau  V  and  so  on. 
When  she  came  to  me  I  couldn't  hold  in  no  longer,  and  I 
bust  out  a-larfin.  '  Kiss  my  foot,  will  you,'  said  she,  *  Mr. 
Sam  ?  and  mind  what  I  tell  yau,  if  yau  go  for  to  cut  any 
of  yaur  high  shines  with  me,  I  '11  fetch  yau  a  kick  in  yaur 
western  eend  that  will  give  yau  the  dry  gripes  for  a  week. 


wJ!?^ 


DEFINITION   OP   A   GENTLEMAN. 


201 


eek, 


dod  drot  my  old  slices  if  I  do  n't,  for  yau  are  a  bigger  fool 
than  I  took  yau  to  be.'  She  felt  equal  to  any  of  the  com- 
pany, and  80  she  was,  /politically  speaking,  and  notliin* 
darnted  her.  It  tan't  more  nor  half  convenient  always, 
but  it 's  the  effect  of  our  glc  lious  institutions.  She  felt  con- 
scious she  might  be  the  mother  of  a  president  of  our  great 
nation,  and  it  infused  a  spirit  in  her  above  her  grade.  In 
fact,  no  one,  male  or  female,  can  forget  that  fact  —  that 
their  child  mought  be  an  Albert  Gotha  for  eight  years. 
As  for  me,"  he  said.  "  I  never  was  abashed  before  any  man 
since  I  was  knee  high  to  a  goose ;  I  hope  I  may  be  skinned 
if  I  was.  I  do  actilly  believe,  if  your  queen  was  to  ax  me 
to  dine  with  her,  I  should  feel  no  more  taken  aback  nor  if 
it  was  Phoebe  Hopewell.  The  fixin's  of  the  table  mought 
be  a  little  grain  different  from  what  I  had  ever  heem  on, 
seein'  that  she  is  so  much  richer  than  I  be ;  and,  havin' 
lords  to  wait  behind  cheers  at  dinner  would  seem,  at  first, 
strange,  I  do  suppose,  but  I  should  jist  cut  my  eye  round 
like  wink,  and  see  how  others  did,  like  a  well-bred  man, 
and  then  right  and  left  and  down  the  middle,  as  they  did, 
as  onconsarned  as  if  I  had  been  used  to  it  all  my  life. 
Afore  you  go,  I  '11  p'int  out  to  you  some  smart  men  in  the 
same  grade  as  myself,  travelHn'  clock-venders,  or  in  the  tin 
line,  who  are  men  of  great  refinement  in  dress,  and  consid- 
erable taste  in  hossflesh,  and  parfect  gentlemen,  who  pride 
themselves  on  bavin'  the  handsomest  gall,  the  best  trottin' 
beast,  and  the  dearest  coats  in  the  city,  and  would  n't  let 
no  man  say  *  boo*  to  them  for  nothin'.  Let  a  British  duke 
ax  one  o*  them  to  a  party  without  fust  callin'  and  gittin'  in- 
troduced, as  one  of  them  did  to  another  citizen  of  ourn  not 
long  ago,  and  sec  if  he  wouldn't  make  him  a  caution  to  be- 

9 


202 


8AM  SUCK'S  SAYINGS  AND  DOINGS. 


hold.  I  'd  trouble  an  old  gouty  lord  to  go  a-hobblin'  up- 
gtairs.  afore  'em,  a  purpose  to  keep  'em  back,  and  mortify 
'em,  'cause  they  were  Americans.  I  guess  they  'd  give 
him  a  lift  with  the  tip  eend  of  their  toe  that  would  help 
him  to  mend  his  pace,  that 's  all.  What  your  idea  of  a 
gentleman  is,  I  do  n't  know,  but,  I  suppose,  nothin'  onder 
an  airl  is  one  in  your  eyes ;  but  my  idea  of  a  gentleman  is 
jist  this :  one  who  is  rich  enough,  willin'  enough,  and 
knowin'  enough,  when  the  thing  has  to  be  done  in  firstrate 
style,  to  go  the  full  figur',  and  to  do  the  thing  ginteel. 
That 's  what  I  call  a  gentleman." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


U*  ;o 


im 


LOOKING   UP. 

The  clockmaker  had  an  extensive  and  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature.  The  wandering  life  he  had  led,  and 
the  nature  of  his  business,  which  sent  him  into  every  man's 
house,  aflfbrded  him  a  favorable  opportunity  of  studying 
character,  a  knowledge  of  which  was  the  foundation  of  his 
success  in  life.  Like  most  clever  men,  however,  he  prided 
himself  less  upon  what  he  did,  than  what  he  did  not,  know, 
and  was  more  ambitious  of  being  considered  a  man  of  fash- 
ionable manners,  than  a  skilful  mechanic,  an  expert  sales- 
man, or  a  shrewd,  intelligent  man.  It  was  one  of  his  weak 
points,  and  the  more  remarkable  in  him,  for  it  was  natural 
to  suppose  that  his  quick  perception  of  the  ridiculous,  and 
his  power  of  humor,  would  have  enabled  him  to  see  the  ab 


LOOKING   UP. 


203 


surdity  of  such  ft  pretension  quicker  than  most  men.  Ad- 
mitting the  truth  of  his  a^ertion,  that  all  men,  women,  and 
children,  are  open  to  the  influence  of  his  universal  and  in- 
fallible soft-sawder,  I  have  no  doubt  that  a  dose  of  it  skil- 
fully applied  to  him  on  this  point,  would  have  proved  the 
accuracy  of  the  remark,  by  showing  that  he  was  no  more 
exempt  from  its  operation  than  the  thousands  of  dupes 
whose  caution  he  had  disarmed,  and  whose  favor  he  had 
won  by  it  himself. 

*•  Yes,  squire,"  he  continued,  "  it 's  a  great  advantage  we 
possess,  is  manners.  It  enables  us  to  visit  the  log-huts  of 
the  down-east  settler,  and  the  palace  of  the  nobles,  on  free 
and  easy  tarms,  to  peddle  in  the  one,  and  do  first  chop  in 
the  other.  I  rather  pride  myself  on  my  manners,  for  I 
have  seed  more  of  the  world  than  most  men.  That,  you 
see,  has  provided  me  with  small-talk  for  the  women,  and 
you  might  as  well  be  without  small  change  in  tradin*  as 
small-talk  in  courtin*  the  galls.  There  is  nothin'  a'most 
pleases  womenkind  like  hearin'  men  talk  glib  to  them,  un- 
less it  be  to  hear  the  sound  of  their  own  tongues.  Then, 
I  I'arnt  psalmody  to  singin'-school,  and  havin*  naturally  a 
good  voice,  can  do  base  to  the  nines,  and  sing  complete. 
Beautiful  tunes  some  o'  them  meetin'-house  ones  are,  too. 
There  is  old  Russia ;  now  that 's  one  you  never  get  tired 
of;  and  Washington's  March  is  another,  and  so  is  Jim 
Crow  Zionized.  Lookin*  on  the  same  music-book  with  the 
ladies  brings  heads  together,  and  if  you  don't  put  your 
hands  on  their  shoulder  or  their  waists,  you  can't  see 
straight,  or  stand  steady  to  read.  Many  a  match  has  been 
made  afore  now  in  the  night  singin'-schools.  There  is 
Avliere  I  got  my  first  lesson  in  manners,  tho'  father  was  al- 


,;:,... I 


ii!ii» 


204 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


ways  a-preaching  up  of  manners  to  me,  too.  Father,  you 
know,  was  one  of  the  heroes  of  'Bunker's  hill.  He  was  a- 
snrgeant  at  that  gloiious  battle,  and  arterward  rose  iu 
Blickville  to  be  a  kurnel  in  the  militia.  He  had  quite  a 
military  air  about  him,  had  the  old  man,  and  was  as 
straight  as  a  poker  at  seventy,  and  carried  his  head  as 
erect  as  the  cap  of  a  gate-post.  He  always  used  to  say, 
•March,'  'halt,'  'right-wheel,'  'left-wheel,'  'quick-step/ 
and  so  on,  to  his  bosses,  to  the  last.  He  used  to  say  you 
could  always  tell  a  military  man  by  his  walk,  his  talk,  and 
his  manners.  In  his  walk  he  was  stately,  for  it  looked 
hero-like  ;  in  his  talk  he  swore  a  few,  for  it  was  the  way 
of  the  camp ;  and,  in  his  manners,  he  was  humble  servant 
to  the  ladies,  and  haughty  to  the  men,  because  one  you 
fought  for  and  the  other  you  fought  with.  Poor  old  man,  he 
was  always  a-dingin'  this  lesson  into  my  ears  :  '  Alwayslook 
up,  Sam  ;  look  up  in  mcnners,  and  look  up  in  politics.  In  man- 
ners,' said  he, '  a  man  that  looks  down  ain't  safe  at  all.  It's  a 
sure  sign  of  roguery  and  treachery.  Such  a  crittur  will  either 
lie,  cheat,  or  steal,  or  do  some  bad  thing  or  another,  you  may 
depend.  Never  trust  a  man  that  do  n't  hold  up  his  head 
and  look  you  in  the  face  ;  such  a  crittur  knows  his  heart  is 
bad,  and  is  afeerd  you  see  into  it  thro'  them  are  winders, 
his  eyes.  Have  nothin'  to  do  with  him  on  no  account. 
Look  at  Lawyer  Sly  ware ;  well,  he  is  the  most  pious  law- 
yer and  the  most  extoitionate  man  in  all  Slickville.  You'd 
think  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  that  feller's  mouth,  and  yet, 
when  he  is  onder  the  protection  of  the  court,  there  ain't 
anything  too  bad  for  him  to  lay  his  tongue  to  in  abusin' 
folks,  and  where  money  is  consarned,  he  is  mean  and  on- 
reasonable.     Some  folks  say  his  piety  is  jist  a  cloak,  and 


iii 


it 


LOOKING   UP. 


206 


nothin'  more,  to  hide  his  claws;  how  that  is,  I  won't  say; 
but  this  I  know,  he  looks  down,  and  looks  sideways,  or  any 
way  but  right  up  like  a  man  at  you  full  in  the  face,  and 
such  corn-crackers  as  that,  let  them  be  who  they  may, 
arn't  over  safe  in  the  dark,  or  in  the  woods,  I  know.  You 
recollect  old  Southey  Crowe,  do  n't  you  ?  Well,  I  '11  tell 
you  a  story  about  him.  He  was  one  of  those  down-lookin' 
skunks  I  was  a-speakm'  of,  and  a  more  endless  villain, 
p'raps,  there  ain't  this  blessed  day  atween  the  poles  than 
he  was ;  but  you  mustn't  let  on  to  any  one  about  it  that  I 
said  so,  for  he  has  left  some  children  behind  him  that  are 
well  to  do  in  the  world,  and  different  guess  chaps  from  him 
altogether,  and  it  would  be  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  hurt  their 
feelin's  by  a  revival ;  but  it 's  true  a»  gospel  for  all  that. 

"  '  When  minister  was  first  located  here  to  Slickville,  he 
thought  his  boss  was  the  most  everlastin'  eater  he  ever  seeril, 
for  he  used  to  eat  more  nor  any  two  bosses  in  all  the  town ; 
and  says  he  to  me,  one  day,  *' Kuyrnel,*'  says  he,  "what's 
good  for  a  boss  that  has  an  onnateral  appetite,  do  you 
know  f "  says  he,  "  for  my  boss  eats  near  a  ton  o*  hay 
a-month." — "  It's  worms,"  says  I ;  nothin'  will  make  a  boss 
eat  like  the  botts." — "  Well,  what 's  good  for  botts  ?"  said 
he.  "  Well,"  says  I,  "  cliopped  boss  hair  in  their  oats  ain't 
a  bad  thing,  nor  a  little  tobacco,  nr)ther ;  but  I  '11  look  at 
him  and  see  what  it  is,  for  I  never  heerd  tell  of  a  boss  eatin' 
at  that  rate,  at  no  time."  Well,  the  next  mornin'  I  goes 
out  to  the  stable  along  with  ministei:,  to  see  the  boss,  and 
there  had  fallen  a  little  chance  of  snow  in  the  night,  and 
there  was  the  tracks  of  a  man  quite  plain,  where  he  had 
carried  off  hay,  and  the  seed  and  dust  of  the  clover  was 
scattered  all  about  after  him.     "Minister,"  says  I,  "there's 


m 


206 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINOS   AND   DOINGS. 


« 


II 


m 


li 


the  botta,  sure  enough  ;  they  have  carried  off  the  hay  by 
wholesale ;  hut  they  've  took  it  afore  the  hoss  got  it,  tho', 
and  no  mistake  :  look  at  them  are  tracks." — "  Dear,  dear," 
said  he,  "  only  to  think  of  the  wickedness  of  this  world ; 
who  on  airth  could  that  be  that  was^  so  vile  V* — '*  Southey 
Crowe,"  said  I*  "I'll  put  my  head  agin  a  cent  it's  him; 
for  in  a  gineral  way,  I  suspect  them  rascals  that  look  down 
always.  These  are  dark  nights  now,  T  guess,  for  it 's  in  the 
old  of  the  moon,  and  jist  the  time  for  rogues  to  be  np  and 
doin'.  I  '11  keep  watch  for  you  to-night,  and  see  who  he  is. 
I  '11  catch  him,  the  villain  —  see  if  I  don't."—"  Well,  don't 
use  your  sword,  nor  your  pistols  nother,  kuymel,'^  said  he; 
••  don't  apprehend  him,  or  slay  him,  or  hurt  him,  but  jist  ad- 
monish ;  for  I  'd  rather  lose  hay,  hoss,  and  all,  than  not  to 
forgive  the  poor  sinner,  and  reclaim  him.  Oh  how  my 
heart  rejoices  over  a  repentin'  sinner !" — *•  Minister,"  says 
I  —  for  I  felt  my  pride  touched  at  his  talkin'  that  way  of  an 
officer's  sword,  as  if  it  was  nothin'  but  a  constable's  thief- 
sticker,  and  had  half  a  mind  to  let  the  hay  go  to  old  Scratch, 
for  all  me  — "  Minister,"  said  I,  in  a  dignified  manner  to 
him,  *'  my  sword,  sir,  has  been  drawed  in  my  country's 
cause,  and  it  shall  never  be  disgraced  in  a  meaner  one.  It 
is  consecrated  to  everlastin'  fame,  and  not  to  be  defiled  by 
the  crop  and  gizzard  of  a  scoundrel."  Well,  at  night,  I 
takes  my  lantern,  the  same  I  had  to  dress  by  in  the  wars, 
and  goes  and  off  shoes,  and  hides  away  in  a  vacant  hoss- 
stall  near  the  door ;  and  I  had  hardly  got  all  snugged  away 
in  the  hoss-litter,  and  done  swearin'  at  the  parfume  of  it 
(for  it  ain't  pretty  to  sleep  in),  when,  who  should  come  in 
but  Southey  Crowe.  Well,  he  ups  into  the  loft  in  little 
less  than  half  no  time,  and  pitches  down  a  considerable  of  a 


LOOKING   UP. 


207 


lock  of  hay,  and  then  ties  it  up  in  a  bundle  fit  for  carriage, 
and  slips  it  over  his  shoulder  like  a  knapsack,  ao  as  to  have 
his  hands  free  to  balanco  with  in  runnin',  and  to  help  him 
climb  the  fences.  Well,  as  soon  as  he  was  re»dy  he  goes 
to  the  door  and  opens  it ;  but  his  bundle  was  a  little  grain 
too  wide,  and  stuck  a  bit ;  and  jist  then,  I  out  candle,  and 
sets  fire  to  his  load  in  several  places.  As  soon  as  he  sees 
the  light,  he  gives  a  jerk,  forces  the  bundle  thro'  the  door- 
way, and  runs  like  Old  Nick  himself,  as  fast  as  he  could  cut 
dirt,  for  dear  life,  and  fancyin'  there  was  some  one  a-pur- 
suin'  of  hiin  ;  he  never  stopped  to  look  behind  him,  but  jist 
streaked  it  off  like  a  greased  thunderbolt.  At  last  the  poor 
critter  was  singed  in  airnest,  and  'most  suffocated,  and  he 
yelled  and  screamed  'most  awful ;  he  was  a  caution  to  hear ; 
and  the  faster  he  ran,  the  faster  the  flame  burned,  till  at 
last  the  cord  give  way,  and  down  fell  the  burnin*  bundle. 
A  few  days  arterward  he  came  to  minister,  and  confessed 
that  he  was  the  man,  and  said  Heaven  had  sent  down  fire 
to  burn  the  hay  on  him,  as  a  warnin'  to  him  of  the  punish- 
ment to  come  for  robbin'  a  minister.  Well,  what  does  min- 
ister do,  the  old  goose,  but  ups  and  tells  him  human  means 
was  used,  as  it  was  my  lantern.  He  said  he  didn't  want  to 
encourage  superstition  by  pious  frauds,  and  I  don't  know 
what  all.  It  made  me  hoppin*  mad  to  see  him  act  so  like 
an  old  fool.  Well,  what  was  the  consequence  of  all  this 
nonsense  1  Why,  Southey  got  over  his  fright,  seein'  the 
devil  had  no  hand  in  it,  and  went  right  at  stealin'  agin. 
He  was  one  of  them  fellers  that  always  look  down,  was 
Southey.     Cuss  'em  !  there  is  no  trnstin'  any  of  them. 

"  Then  he   used  to   say,    '  Always  look  up  in  politict, 
Sam,'     Now  we  have  two  kinds  of  politicians,  the  Jederal- 


'    fj 


I  ni 


208 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINQS. 


11^ 


■  1^^ 


K   M'i 


tttfs  and  the  democrats.  The  federalists  look  up,  and  arc 
for  a  vigonms  exccutiv<',  for  rt'^pubrjau  inslitiitiuns  such  ns 
Washington  left  us,  for  the  state-tax,  fc-  religion,  jind  for 
enforciii'  law  and  order — what  you  may  call  consaivitivcs, 
p'raps  ;  and  they  appeal  to  men  of  sense,  and  judgment,  .'ind 
property ;  to  the  humane,  liberal,  and  enlightened  upper 
claeses;  and  they  want  to  see  the  reins  of  government  in 
the  hands  of  such  folks,  because  then  we  have  some  security 
things  will  be  well  administered.  Then  we  have  the  demo- 
crats, fellers  that  look  down ;  who  try  to  set  the  poor  agin 
the  rich  ;  who  talk  of  our  best  men  with  contempt,  and  hold 
*em  up  as  enemies  to  their  country ;  who  say  the  federalists 
are  aristocrats,  tyrants,  and  despots,  and  appeal  to  the  preju- 
dices and  passions  of  the  ignorant,  and  try  to  inflame  them ; 
who  use  the  word  reform  as  a  catchword  to  weaken  tha 
handr;  of  the  government,  to  make  eveiything  elective,  and 
to  take  all  pov/er  of  good  from  the  venerable  senate  (whose 
voice  they  call  an  aristocratic  whisper),  under  pretence  of 
restraining  their  power  for  evil.  These  are  mob  pol 'ticians. 
They  first  incite  and  discontent  the  mob,  and  then  say  the 
•people  must  have  a  change  of  officers ;  and  when  they  get 
into  office,  thoy  sacrifice  everybody  and  everything  to  keep 
in.     This  comes  o*  lookin*  down. 

"  '  These  party-leaders  call  the  mob  their  tail,  and  they 
know  the  use  of  a  tail  too,  as  well  as  Neighbor  Dearborne's 
rats  did.  Neighbor  Dearborne  used  to  wonder  how  it  was 
all  his  casks  of  molasses  had  jist  five  inches  drawed  off, 
exactly  and  no  more,  out  of  each  cask.  His  store  was  well 
locked,  and  well  barred,  and  fastened  up  all  tight  and  snug 
every  day,  and  he  was  fairly  stumped  to  know  how  the 
thieves  got  in,  and  why  they  stole  no  more  than  jist  five 


LOOKING    UP. 


209 


inches  out  of  each  ;  so  what  does  he  Jo  but  goes  and  gets 
up  on  the  roof  of  the  store,  and  watches  through  the  sky- 
light. Well,  he  watched  and  watched  for  ever  so  long,  all 
to  no  purpose,  and  he  was  jist  about  givin'  it  up  as  a  bad 
jou,  when  he  thought  he  seed  somethin'  a-movin',  and  he 
looked,  and  what  do  you  think  he  did  see?  Why,  a  few 
great,  big,  overgrowed  rats  conie  crawlin'  along  the  tops  of 
the  casks,  and  they  jist  dipped  theii  tails  thro'  the  bangs 
unto  the  'lasses,  and  then  turned  to  and  licked  'em  ofif 
clean.     They  did,  upon  my  soul ! 

-'  *  This  is  jist  the  way  in  politics.  Democrat  or  liberal 
leaders  make  the  same  use  of  their  followers,  their  tail. 
They  make  use  of  them  to  get  a  dip  info  the  good  things^ 
hut  they  lick  all  up  so  clean  them^elvf,  nothirC  was  ever  seen 
to  stick  to  the  tail.  See,  too,  what  a  condition  religion  is 
got  into  among  these  down-lookin'  gentry.  The  Bible  has 
got  turned  out  of  the  common  schools  all  thro*  Slickville, 
because  it  offends  the  scruples  of  them  who  never  read  it, 
and  don't  know  what  it  contains.  To  be  religious  is  out  of 
fashion  now ;  it  ain't  liberal.  It  ain't  enough  with  these 
demagogue?  to  let  every  man  worship  his  own  way,  bfit 
you  must  lock  up  the  Bible  from  scho6l^,  for  fear  it  will 
tea<"h  little  chihlrcn  to  be  bigots.  Now,  Sam,  minister 
would  say,  "  See  here :  these  same  critturs,  all  over  the 
world,  belie  their  own  politics  in  their  own  conduct."  Let 
one  of  our  democrat-movement  men  go  to  England,  or  any 
place  where  there  are  birds  of  the  same  feather,  and  ask 
credit  for  goods,  and  take  a  certificate  of  character  from  the 
patriots,  demagogues,  and  devils  to  home,  and  Me  what  his 
reception  will  be. — *•  Sorry,  sir,  but  have  more  orders  than 
\ve  can  execrvi) ;  don't  know  these  people  that  have  sart^- 

'  '    ^  '    r  '    


ISiiil 


,:;:^lf!iitli!iiii 

I   ■-|!;.' 


M 


m 


I 


'mII 


ii    ' 

islil 
iiiH 


it 
liiltl'ilJi 


210 


SAM   SUCK'S  SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


HI 


I! 

if 


fied  your  character ;  may  be  very  good  men,  but  don't  know 
them.  Busy,  sir  —  good  inorniu'."  But  let  a  man /ooA  m/>, 
and  take  a  recommendation  from  the  first  pot-hooks  on  the 
crane  —  from  the  governor  and  selectmen,  and  the  judges 
and  minister,  and  me,  the  honorable  Colonel  Slick,  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  military  forces  (a  name  well  known 
in  military  circles),  and  see  what  they  '11  say :  '*  Ah !  this 
damned  Yankee"  (they  will  b^rear  a  few,  for  they  are  as 
cross  as  a  bear  with  a  sore  head  since  the  lickin'  we  give 
them  last  war),  '*  he  comes  well  sartified,  most  respectable 
testimonies  —  all  upper-crust  folks  —  high  characters,  all. 
We  can  trust  him  —  he'll  do.  T'other  feller's  papers  were 
rather  suspicious :  this  one's  will  pass  muster."  And  yet, 
Sam,  our  democrat-liberals  tell  the  poor  ignorant  voters 
that  these  men,  whose  sartijicates  will  pass  all  the  world 
over,  all  the  same  as  if  they  was  onder  oath,  ain't  to  be 
trusted  in  politics  at  home.  Fie  on  them  !  they  know  bet- 
ter, and  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  they  were  shipped  clean 
out  o'  the  state  down  to  Nova  Scotia,  or  some  such  outland- 
ish  place. 

*■  *"  I  fixed  one  feller's  flint  that  came  a-canvassin'  the 
other  day  for  a  democrat  candidate,  most  properly.  Says 
he,  "jKMyrnel,"  says  he,  "did  you  hear  the  news?  that 
infarnal  scoundrel  Coke,  the  mayor,  is  nominated  for 
governor ;  he  is  a  cussed  federalist,  that ;  he  is  no  friend 
to  his  country.  I  wouldn't  vote  for  him  for  a  hog- 
reeve." 

a  i  u  Upright  magistrate,  warn't  he  ?"   says   I. — "  Why, 
yes,  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  I  must  say  he  was." 

••  « »  Brings    his    family    up    well,    don't    he  ?"— "  Well 
enough." 


11 : 


W 


LOOKING    UP. 


211 


"  '  "  Good  neighbor,  ain't  he  ?" — "  Why,  yes ;  but  what's 
that  to  do  with  it  ?  he  ain't  no  friend  to  his  country!'' 

" '  "  Not  a  bad  landlord,  is  he  ?  I  never  heerd  of  his  dis- 
tressln'  his  tenants,  did  you?" — "Why,  no,  I  can't  say  I 
did  ;  but  what's  all  that  when  it's  fried  ?" 

*"  ♦'  A  good  deal  of  money  passed  thro'  his  hands ;  did 
you  e\er  hear  of  any  complaints?" — "I  made  no  inquiries. 
I  dare  say,  it  there  was,  he  hushed  them  up." 

"  * "  A  great  friend  to  intarnal  improvements,  ain't  he  — 
railroads  and  them  sort  of  things  ?" — "  And  well  he  may 
be ;  he  owns  a  good  deal  of  land  in  the  state,  and  it  will 
benefit  it  —  the  devil  thank  him  !" 

"  '  "  Sees  a  good  deal  of  company  to  his  house  ;  was  you 
ever  there?" — "Why  no,"  says  he,  "your  federalists  are 
too  proud  for  that ;  but  I  would  n't  go  if  he  was  to  ask  me ; 
I  despise  him,  for  he  is  no  friend  to  his  country." 

" '  "Ah  !"  says  I,  "  the  cat's  out  of  the  bag  now.  This  is 
mahogany  patriotism  ;  but  who  is  your  candidate?" — "Well, 
he  is  no  aristocrat,  no  federalist,  no  tyrant,  but  a  rael  right- 
down  reformer  and  democrat.  He  is  a  friend  to  his  country 
and  no  mistake.     It's  Gabriel  Hedgeliog." 

"  '  "  Him,"  said  I,  "  that  there  was  so  much  talk  about 
cheatin'  folks  in  his  weights  ?" — "  That  was  never  proved," 
said  he  ;  "  let  them  prove  that." 

"  •  "  Exactly,"  says  I,  "  your  objection  to  Coke  is  that  you 
never  got  so  far  as  his  front  door  yet;  and  mine  to  Gabriel 
Hedgehog,  that  I  wouldn't  trust  him  inside  of  mine  at  no 
rate.  The  federalist,  it  appears,  is  an  upright,  honorable, 
kind,  and  benevolent  man,  discharging  all  his  public  and 
private  duties  like  a  good  man  and  a  good  member  of  soci- 
ety.    You  say  he  is  a  friend  to  intarnal  improvement  be- 


lli 


I    ^^ 


'    iii 
'Sill     !„ 

i'il'i 

''''""'"  III! 


m 


I 


li  illl 

■I 

J!:ll  iiSI 


^i,i-'i  iiiiii 


!/i 


212 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


Il'i 


i 

». 

1 

■m: 

i 

UM^ 

i . 

'^- 

,'i 

U  i  !  ■ 


cause  he  owns  much  land  ;  for  the  same  reason,  if  for  no 
hif^her  or  better  one,  he  will  be  a  friend  to  his  country. 
He  has  got  sometlihC  to  fight  for  ^  that  chap,  besides  his  pay 
as  a,  memher  and  his  share  of  the  plunder.  I  always  look  up 
in  politics.  Them  are  the  sort  of  men  to  govern  us.  Your 
man's  honesty  is  rather  doubtful,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  and 
you  and  him  want  to  level  the  mayor,  and  all  others  above 
you,  down  to  your  own  level,  do  you  ?  Now,  I  don't  want 
to  cut  no  one  down,  but  to  raise  up  (we  had  cuttin*  down 
enough,  gracious  knows,  at  Bunker's  hill.  Mud  creek,  and 
Peach  orchard,  in  cuttin'  down  the  British).  Now,  I  know 
it's  easier  to  cut  others  down  than  to  raise  yourselves,  but 
it  't  ain't  so  honorable.  Do  you  and  Hedgehog  turn  to  and 
earn  the  same  reputation  the  mayor  has,  and  as  soon  as  you 
have,  and  are  so  much  respected  and  beloved  as  he  is,  I'll 
vote  for  either  or  both  of  you,  for  my  maxim  always  is  to 
look  up  in  politics. 

•""Now,"  says  I,  "friend — attention!  eyes  right — left 
shoulders  forward  —  march  !"  and  I  walked  him  out  of  the 
house  in  double  quick  time ;  I  did  by  gum  !  Yes,  Sam, 
always  look  up  —  look  up  in  manners,  and  look  up  in 
politics* " 


THE    OLD    MINISTER. 


218 


Mm 


I'  [ 


W 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


THE   OLD    MINISTER. 


ir" 


i 


As  we  approached  SHckville,  the  native  town  of  the 
clockmaker,  he  began  to  manifest  great  impatience  and  an 
extraordinary  degree  of  excitement.  He  urged  on  old  Clay 
to  the  top  of  his  speed,  who,  notwithstanding  all  the  care 
bestowed  upon  him,  and  the  occasional  aid  of  a  steamboat 
whenever  there  was  one  running  in  the  direction  of  our 
route,  looked  much  thinner  for  this  prodigious  journey  than 
when  we  left  Halifax.  "  Come,  old  Teetotal,"  said  he, 
*'  you  are  a-goin'  home  now,  and  no  mistake.  Hold  up 
your  old  oatmill,  and  see  if  you  can  snuff  the  stable  at  min- 
ister's, if  the  smell  of  these  inion-fields  don't  pyson  your 
nose.  Show  the  folks  you  ain't  forgot  how  to  go.  The 
weather,  squire,  you  see,  has  been  considerable  juicy  here 
lately,  and  to  judge  by  the  mud  some  smart  grists  of  rain 
has  fell,  which  has  made  the  roads  soapy  and  violent  slip- 
pery;  but  if  he  can't  trot  he  can  slide,  you'll  find,  and  if 
he  can't  slide  he  can  skate,  and  if  he  breaks  thro'  he  can 
swim  ;  but  he  can  go  somehow  or  another,  or  somehow  else. 
He  is  all  sorts  of  a  boss,  and  the  best  live  one  that  ever  cut 
dirt  this  side  of  the  big  pond,  or  t'other  side  other;  and  if 
any  man  will  show  me  a  boss  that  can  keep  it  up  as  he  has 
done  in  the  wild  wicked  trot,  clean  away  from  Kent's  lodge 
in  Nova  Scotia,  to  SHckville,  Conne'ticut,  and  ccnd  it  with 
biich  a  |jacc  as  that  arp»  I  '11  give  him  old  Clay  for  nothin', 


n\ 


vn" 


"  iilil' 


ill 


lii 


' 


Up 


m 


Klft '    > 


214 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


iy  '< 


as  a  Rpnn  for  him.  Go  it,  you  old  coon,  you  —  go  it!  and 
make  tracks  like  dry  dust  in  a  thunder-storn).  There,  now, 
that's  it,  I  f^uess  —  liit  or  miss,  riglit  or  wrong,  tit  or  no  tit, 
that's  tho  tntur !  O  squire,  he  is  a  hoss,  is  old  Clay,  every 
inch  of  him  ?  Start  him  agin  for  five  hundred  miles,  and 
you'll  find  he  is  jist  the  hoy  that  ran  do  it.  He'd  make  as 
short  work  of  it  as  a  whole  hattalion  does  of  a  pint  of  whis- 
key at  a  gineral  trainin'.  If  you  want  to  see  another  beast 
like  him  in  this  world,  put  your  spectacles  on,  and  look  as 
sharp  as  you  darn  please,  for  I  reckon  he  is  too  far  off  to 
see  with  the  naked  eye  —  at  least,  I  never  could  se*)  him 

yet." 

But  old  Clay  was  not  permitted  to  retain  this  furious  rate 
long ;  for  recognition  now  became  so  frequent  between  Mr. 
Slick  and  his  old  friends,  the  people  of  Slickville,  that  the 
last  mile,  as  he  said,  "tho'  the  shortest  one  of  the  whole 
bilin',  took  tl.c  longest  to  do  it  in  by  a  jugfull."  The 
reception  he  met  with  on  his  return  to  his  native  land  was 
a  pleasing  evidence  of  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held 
by  those  who  best  knew  him.  Nothing  could  exceed  the 
kindness  with  which  he  was  greeted  by  his  countrymen. 
An  invitation  to  a  public  dinner,  presented  by  a  deputation 
of  the  selectmen,  as  a  token  of  their  approbation  of  his 
"  Sayings  and  Doings,"  was,  hoAvever,  so  unexpected  an 
honor  on  his  part  that  his  feelings  nearly  overpowered  him 
Perhaps  it  was  fortunate  that  it  had  that  effect,  for  it  ena- 
bled him  to  make  a  suitable  reply,  which,  under  any  other 
circumstanccF,  his  exuberant  spirits  and  extravagant  phrase- 
ology would  have  disqualified  him  from  doing.  He  said 
he  was  aware  he  owed  this  honor  more  to  their  personal 
regard  for  him  than  his  own  merits ;  but,  tho'  he  could  not 


THE  OLD   MINISTER. 


216 


flatter  himself  he  was  entitled  to  so  gratifying  a  distinction, 
it  should  certainly  stimulate  him  to  endeavor  to  render 
himself  so.  In  our  subsequent  travels,  he  often  referred  to 
this  voluntary  tribute  of  regard  and  respect  of  his  country- 
men in  terms  of  great  satisfaction  and  pride.  He  said  there 
were  but  three  days  in  his  life  that  he  could  call  "  rael  tip- 
top ones ;"  one  was  when  he  was  elected  into  the  house 
of  represenvatives,  and  made  sure  he  was  to  be  president  of 
the  United  -States ;  the  second,  when,  after  finding  his  mis- 
take, he  ceased  to  be  a  member,  and  escaped  out  of  the 
menagerie ;  and  the  third,  when  he  found  himself  thus  pub- 
licly honored  in  his  native  land. 

The  reception  he  everywhere  met  with  was  most  kind 
and  flattering;  but  Mr.  Hopewell,  the  ex-minister  of  the 
parish,  embraced  him  with  all  the  warmth  and  affection  of 
a  father.  He  pressed  him  most  cordially  and  affectionately 
to  his  bosom,  called  him  his  good  friend,  his  kind-hearted 
boy,  his  dear  and  dutiful  son.  They  were  both  affected  to 
tears.  •  He  thanked  him  for  having  brought  me  to  his  house, 
to  which  he  welcomed  me  in  the  most  hospitable  manner, 
and  did  me  the  favor  to  say  that  he  had  looked  with  much 
pleasure  to  this  opportunity  of  making  my  acquaintance. 

The  appearance  of  this  venerable  old  man  was  most 
striking.  In  stature  he  exceeded  the  ordinary  standard, 
and  though  not  corpulent,  he  was  sufficiently  stout  to  pre- 
vent an  air  of  awkwardness  attaching  to  his  height.  Not- 
withstanding his  very  great  age,  his  voice  was  firm,  and  his 
gait  erect.  His  hair  was  of  the  most  snowy  whiteness; 
and  his  countenance,  though  furrowed  with  age  and  care, 
gave  evidence  of  great  intelligence  and  extraordinary  be- 
nevolence.    His  manner,  though  somewhat  formal,  like  that 


I 


l!i! 

^f  illl:: 


i!i!  i  i 


nil 

pi! 


216 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND  DOINOS. 


of  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  was  remarkably  kind  and 
prepossessing,  and  the  general  effect  of  his  bearing  was 
well  calculated  to  command  respect  and  conciliate  affection. 
Those  persons  who  have  described  the  Yankees  as  a  cold, 
designing,  unimpassioned  people,  know  but  little  of  them 
or  their  domestic  circles.  To  form  a  correct  opinion  of  a 
people,  it  is  necessary  to  see  them  at  home,  to  witness  their 
family  reunions,  the  social  intercourse  of  friends,  and,  to 
use  Mr.  Slick's  favorite  phrase,  "  to  be  behind  the  scenes." 
Whoever  has  been  so  favored  as  to  be  admitted  on  these 
intimate  terms  in  New  England,  has  always  come  away 
most  favorably  impressed  with  what  he  has  seen,  and  has 
learned  that  in  the  thousand  happy  homes  that  are  there, 
there  are  many,  very  many,  thousands  of  kind,  and  good, 
and  affectionate  liearts  in  them,  to  make  them  so.  The 
temperature  of  Mr.  Slick's  mind  was  warm,  and  his  spirits 
buoyant ;  and,  therefore,  though  overcome  for  a  time  by 
various  emotions,  on  the  present  occasion,  his  natural  gay- 
ety  soon  returned,  and  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Hopewell's 
sister,  a  maiden  lady  '•  of  a  certain  age,"  who  resided  with 
him  and  superintended  his  household,  afforded  him  an 
opportunity  of  indemnifying  himself. 

"  Is  that  Aunt  Hetty,  sir  f  said  he,  addressing  himself 
to  *'  the  minister"  a\  ith  much  gravity.  "  Why,  yes,  Sam,  to 
be  sure  it  is.  Is  she  so  much  altered  that  you  do  not  know 
her?  Ah,  me  !  we  are  both  altered  —  both  older  than  we 
were,  and  sadder  too,  Sam,  since  you  left  us." — "Altered? 
I  guess  she  is,"  said  Mr.  Slick  ;  "  I  would  n't  a-knowed  her 
nowhere.  Why,  Aunt  Hetty  !  how  do  you  do  ?  What  on 
nirth  have  you  done  with  yourself  to  look  so  young?  Why, 
you  look  ten  years  younger.'' — "Well,  if  that   don't  pass! 


THE  OLD    MINISTER. 


217 


Woll,  you  ain't  altered,  then,  Sam,"  said  she,  shaking  him 
heartily  by  the  hand,  "  not  one  mite  or  morsel ;  you  are 
jist  as  full  of  nonsense  as  ever;  do  behave  now,  that's  a 
good  feller." — "  Ah,"  he  continued,  '•  I  wish  I  could  alter 
as  you  do,  and  that  are  rosebush  of  yourn  onder  the  parlor 
winder;  both  on  you  bloom  afresh  every  month.  Lord,  ,' 
I  could  only  manage  as  you  do,  grow  younger  every  year, 
I  should  be  as  smart  as  a  two-year-old  soon."  Then^  low- 
ering his  voice,  he  said,  "  Brought  you  a  beau,  aunty ; 
that's  the  squire,  there  :  ain't  he  a  beauty  without  paint, 
that  ?  The  sarvant-maid  stole  his  stays  last  night ;  but 
when  he  has  'em  on,  he  ain't  a  bad  figure,  I  tell  you.  The 
only  thing,  against  your  taking  such  a  fat  figure,  is,  that 
you  'd  have  to  lace  them  stays  every  mornin'  for  him,  and 
that's  no  joke,  is  it?" — ''Now,  Sam,''  said  she  (coloring  at 
the  very  idea  of  a  gentleman's  toilet),  '*  do  behave,  that's  a 
dear !  The  intire  stranger  will  hear  you,  I  am  sure  he 
will,  and  it  will  make  me  feel  kinder  foolish  to  have  you 
runnin'  on  that  way  ;  ha'  done,  now,  that's  a  dear  !" — "  Sit 
your  cap  up  for  him,  aunty,"  he  said,  without  heeding  her; 
"  he  is  a  Blue-nose,  to  be  sure,  but  rub  a  silver-skinned  inion 
on  it,  and  it  will  draw  out  the  color,  and  make  him  look 
like  a  Christian.  He  is  as  soft  as  dough,  that  chap,  and 
your  eyes  are  so  keen  they  will  cut  right  into  him,  like  a 
carvin'-knife  into  a  pumkin-pie.  Lord,  he'll  never  know 
he  has  lost  his  heart,  till  he  puts  his  ear  to  it  like  a  v  ateh, 
and  finds  it's  done  tickin'.  Give  me  your  presarves,  tho', 
aunty,  when  you  marry ;  your  quinces,  and  damsons,  and 
jellies,  and  what  not,  for  you  won't  want  them  no  more. 
Nothin*  ever  tastes  sweet  arter  lips.  Oh  dear !  one  smack 
o'  them  is  worth "      "Do  get  along,"  said  ^Iss  Hetty, 


11 


218 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND  DOINGS. 


.1  >  J 


k  ^ 

11 

'.I  ■ 

1  "I 

t 

extricating,  at  last,  tier  hand  from  his,  and  oiFecting  her 
escape  to  her  brother.     "  What  a  plague  you  be  !** 

It  was  a  happy  meeting ;  and  at  dinner,  Mr.  Slick's  sal- 
lies awakened  many  a  long-forgotten  smile  on  the  face  of 
his  old  friend,  the  minister.  It  is  delightful  to  witness  the 
effect  of  a  young  and  joyous  heart  upon  one  that  has  be- 
come torpid  with  age,  or  chilled  with  the  coldness  and 
neglect  of  the  world ;  to  see  it  winning  it  back  to  cheer- 
fulness, warming  it  again  into  animated  existence,  beguiling 
it  of  its  load  of  care,  until  it  brightens  into  reflecting  on 
its  surface  the  new  and  gay  images  that  are  thus  thrown 
upon  it. 

After  the  cloth  was  removed,  the  conversation  accident- 
ally took  a'  more  serious  turn  :  "  So  you  are  going  to  Eng- 
land, Sam,  are  you  V  said  Mr.  Hopewell.  "  Yes,  minister," 
replied  the  clockmaker,  "  I  am  a-goin'  with  the  squire,  here. 
S'posc  you  go  with  us.  You  are  a  gentleman  at  large  now 
you  got  nothin'  to  do,  and  it  will  do  you  good  ;  it  will  give 
you  a  new  lease  of  life,  I  am  a-thinkinV  The  allusion  to 
his  having  nothing  to  do  was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  thought- 
less and  ill-timed.  **  Yes,  Sam,"  said  he,  evidently  much 
distressed,  "  you  say  truly,  I  have  nothin'  to  do  ;  but  whose 
fault  is  that?  Is  it  mine  or  my  parishioners"?  When  my 
flock  all  turned  unitarians,  and  put  anothp^  ^nan  in  my  pul- 
pit, and  told  me  they  had  n't  no  further  occasion  for  me  or 
my  sarvices,  was  it  the  flock  that  wandered,  or  the  shep- 
herd that  slept  ?  It  is  an  awful  question,  that,  Sam,  and 
one  that  must  be  answered  some  day  or  another,  as  sure  as 
you  are  born.  I  try  to  make  myself  believe  it  is  my  fault, 
and  I  pray  that  it  may  be  so  considered,  and  that  I  may 
be  accepted  as  a  8a*;rifice  for  them;  for  willingly  would  I 


THE  OLD  MINISTER. 


219 


lay  down  my  life  for  them,  the  poor  dehided  cntturs.  Then, 
sotnetimes,  T  try  to  think  it  wnrn't  the  fault  of  either  me  or 
my  flock,  hut  the  fault  of  them  are  pood-for-nothin'  philoB- 
ophers,  Jefferson,  Franklin,  and  them  new-school  people, 
that  fixed  our  constitution,  and  forgot  to  make  Christianity 
the  corner-stone.  Oh,  what  an  awful  affliction  it  is  for  a 
country,  when  its  rulers  are  not  attached  to  the  church  of 
God  !  If  poor  dear  old  Gineral  Washington  had  a-had  his 
way,  it  would  have  been  different,  and  he  told  me  so  with 
tears  in  his  eyes.  '  Joshua,'  says  he,  for  him  and  me  was 
very  intimate — 'Joshua,'  says  he,  'the  people  ascribe  all 
the  praise  of  our  glorious  Revolution  to  their  own  valor  and 
to  me,  because  I  am  one  of  themselves,  and  are  a-going  to 
build  a  great  city  for  a  capital,  and  call  it  after  me,  "Wash- 
ington ;  but  for  Hitn,  Joshua,'  said  he,  a-p'intin*  up  to  the 
skies  with  one  hand,  and  devoutly  oncoverin'  his  head  with 
the  other — •  but  for  Him  who  upheld  us  in  the  hour  of  bat- 
tle, and  in  the  day  of  trouble — for  Him,  to  whom  all  hon- 
or, and  praise,  and  glory,  is  due,  what  have  we  done  ?  why, 
carefully  excluded  the  power  to  endow  Christianity  from 
every  constitution  of  every  state  in  the  Union.  Our  lan- 
guage is  at  once  impious  and  blasphemous.  We  say  the 
Lord  is  better  able  to  take  charge  of  his  clergy  than  we  are, 
and  we  have  no  doubt  he  will.  Let  him  see  to  them,  and 
we'll  see  to  ourselves.  Them  that  want  religion  can  pay 
for  it.  The  state  wants  none,  for  it  is  an  incorporeal  affair, 
without  a  body  to  be  punished  or  a  soul  to  be  saved.  Now, 
Joshua,'  said  he,  '  you  will  live  to  see  it,  but  I  won't  —  for  I 
feel  as  if  they  was  a-goin'  to  make  an  idol  of  me,  to  wor- 
ship, and  it  kills  me  —  you  will  see  the  nateral  consequence 
of  all  this  in  a  few  years.     We  shall  run  away  from  the 


:!is 


'^■:i 


n 


m 


220 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


II 


practice  of  roligion  into  tliooiy.  We  shall  have  more  sects 
than  the  vanity  of  man  ever  yet  invented,  and  more  enthu- 
sijiHm  ami  loss  piety,  and  more  pretension  and  less  morals, 
than  any  civilized  nation  on  the  face  of  the  airth.  Instead 
of  the  well-regulated,  even  pulsation,  that  shows  a  healthy 
state  of  religion,  it  will  be  a  feverish  excitement  or  helpless 
debility.  The  body  will  sometimes  appear  dead,  as  when 
in  a  trance ;  a  glass  over  the  lips  will  hardly  detect  respi- 
ration ;  it  will  seem  as  if  the  vital  spark  was  extinct.  Then 
it  will  have  fits  of  idiotcy,  stupid,  vacant,  and  drivelling; 
then  excitement  will  inspire  zeal,  genius,  and  eloquence, 
and  while  you  stand  lost  in  admiration  of  its  powers,  its 
beauty,  and  sublimity,  you  will  be  startled  by  its  wildness, 
its  eccentric  flashes,  its  incoherences ;  and  ttefore  you  can 
make  up  your  mind  that  it  has  lost  its  balance,  you  will  be 
shocked  by  its  insanity,  its  horrible  frantic  raving  madness. 
" '  Joshua,'  said  he,  '  we  ought  to  have  established  a 
church,  fixed  npor  some  one,  and  called  it  a  national  one. 
Not  having  done  so,  nothing  short  of  a  direct  interposition 
of  Providence,  which  we  do  not  deserve,  and  therefore  can 
not  hope  for,  can  save  this  great  country  from  becoming  a 
dependency  of  Rome.  Popery,  that  is  now  only  a  speck 
ti  these  states,  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  will  speedily 
spread  into  a  great  cloud,  and  cover  this  land  so  no  ray  of 
light  can  penetrate  it :  nay,  it  is  a  giant,  and  it  will  enter 
into  a  divided  house  and  expel  the  unworthy  occupants. 
We  tolerate  papists,  because  we  believe  they  will  inherit 
heaven  equally  with  us  ;  but  when  their  turn  comes,  will 
they  tolerate  us  whom  they  hold  to  be  heretics  ?  Oh,  that 
we  had  held  fast  to  the  church  that  we  had  !  the  church  of 
our  forefathers — the  church  of  England.     It  is  a  pure, 


<\v 


THE   OLD   MINISTER. 


221 


noble,  npostoHc  Birncturo,  tho  holiest  and  the  best  since  the 
(Inys  of  the  npostles;  but  we  have  not,  and  the  consoqnence 
is  too  melancholy  and  too  awfnl  to  contemplate.  Was  it  for 
this,'  snid  he,  •!  drew  my  sword  in  my  country's  cause?' 
and  he  pulled  the  blade  half  out.  '  Had  I  known  what  1 
.low  know' — and  he  drove  it  back  with  such  force,  T  fairly 
'.hought  it  would  have  come  out  of  t'other  eend  —  *  it  should 
have  rusted  in  its  scabbard  first  —  it  should,  indeed,  Hope- 
well. Now,  Joshua,'  said  he,  and  he  oncovered  his  head 
ngin,  for  he  was  a  religious  man  was  Washington,  and 
never  took  the  Lord's  name  in  vain,  *  recollect  these  words 
—  ♦'  visiting  the  sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children,  unto 
the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate  me,  and 
jhowing  mercy  unto  thousands  of  them  that  love  me"  May 
the  promise  be  ours;  but,  oh,  far,  far  be  the  denunciation 
'rom  us  and  our  posterity  !  Franklin,  Joshua,  has  a  great 
'leal  to  answer  for.  Success  has  made  him  flippant  and 
/5olf-8uflicient,  and,  like  all  self-taught  men,  he  thinks  he 
knows  more  than  he  does,  and  more  than  anybody  else. 
If  he  had  more  religion  and  less  philosophy,  as  he  calls 
jkepticism,  it  would  be  better  for  him  and  us,  too.  He  is 
always  a-sayin'  to  me,  ''Leave  religion  alone,  gineral ;  leave 
*t  to  tJie  voluntary  principle ;  the  supply -wWi  always  keep 
pjico  with  the  demand.''^  It  is  the  maxim  of  a  pedlar^ 
Joshua,  and  onworthy  of  a  statesman  or  a  Christian ;  for, 
in  religion,  unlike  other  things,  tho  demand  seldom  or 
never  precedes,  but  almost  itivariahly  follows  and  increases 
with  tlie  supply.  *•  An  ignorant  man  knowetn  not  this, 
neither  doth  a  fool  understand  it."  I  wish  he  could  see 
with  his  own  eyes  the  eft'ects  of  his  liberality,  Joshua,  it 
would  sober  his  e-«:ultation,  and  teach  him  a  sad  and  humil- 


iili 

iiHlii.'r 


i 


!!'  II 


■!■:! 


222 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


I*    J 


I.  !) '; 


/ 


1'  i 


'i 


S'l  ;pf  iHies»l 


iniing  lesson.  Let  him  cotne  with  :ne  into  Virginia  and  see 
the  ruins  of  that  great  and  good  establishment  that  minis- 
tered to  us  in  our  youth  as  our  nursing  mother  — let  him 
txamiue  the  ninety-five  parishes  of  the  state,  and  he  will 
f.nd  twenty-three  extinct,  and  thirty-four  destitute,  the  pas- 
tors expelled  by  want,  or  violence,  or  death. 

"  '  Ilis  philosophy  will  be  gratified,  too,  I  suppose,  by 
seeing  the  numerous  proselytes  he  has  made  to  his  enlight- 
ened opinions.  In  breaking  up  the  church,  these  rafio?iaJ 
religionists  have  adopted  his  maxims  of  frugality,  and  ab- 
stained from  destroying  that  which  might  he  usij'ul.  The 
baptismal  fonts  have  been  preserved  as  convenient  for 
watering  horses,  and  the  sacred  cup  has  been  retained  as 
a  relic  of  the  olden  time,  to  grace  the  convivial  board. 
There  is  no  bigotry  here,  Joshua,  no  narrow  prejudice,  for 
reformers  are  always  men  of  enlarged  minds.  They  have 
done  their  work  like  men.  They  have  applied  the  proper- 
ty of  the  church  to  secular  purposes,  and  covered  their  ini- 
quity under  the  cant  of  educating  the  poor,  forgetting  the 
while  that  a  knowledge  of  God  is  the  foundation  of  all  wis- 
dom. They  have  extinguished  the  cry  of  the  church  being 
in  danger  by  extinguishing  the  church  itself.  When  re- 
formers talk  of  religious  freedom  as  a  popular  topir,  depend 
upon  it  they  mean  to  dispense  with  religion  altogether. 
What  the  end  will  bo  I  know  not,  for  the  issues  are  with 
Him  from  whom  all  good  things  do  come  ;  but  I  do  still  in- 
dulge the  hope  all  is  not  yet  lost.  Though  the  tree  be  cut 
down,  the  roots  are  left ;  and  the  sun  by  day  and  the  dew 
by  uiglit  may  mature  them,  and  new  shoots  may  spring  up, 
and  grow  luxuriantly,  and  afford  shelt(!r  in  due  season  to 
them   tiiat  are  weary  and    heavy-laden  :   and  even  if  tla' 


w^Z. 


THE  OLD   MINISTER. 


223 


roots  should  be  killed,  the  venerable  parent-stock  on  the 
other  side  of  the  water,  from  which  ours  is  an  offset,  is  still 
in  full  vigor;  and  new  layers  may  yet  be  laid  by  pious 
hands,  which,  under  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  shall  replace 
our  loss.  Yes,  even  I,  thoiigh  lately  in  arms  against  the 
English,  may  say,  "Long  may  the  maternal  church  live  and 
iiourish  !  and  may  the  axe  of  the  spoiler  never  be  laid  upon 
it  by  sacrilegious  hands  ;"  for  I  warred  with  their  king,  and 
not  against  their  God,  who  is  my  God  also.' 

"  Washington  was  right,  Sam,"  continued  Mr.  Hopewell. 
•'  We  ought  to  have  an  establishment  and  national  temples 
for  worship ;  for  He  has  said,  wl^o  is  truth  itself,  '  Where  I 
record  my  name,  I  will  come  unto  thee  and  bless  thee.' 
Somehow,  I  fear  his  name  is  not  legibly  recorded  here; 
but  whose  fault  was  this  desertion  of  my  Hock,  mine,  or 
them  philosophers  that  made  the  constitution  V* 

I  availed  myself  here  of  a  slight  pause  in  the  conversa- 
tion to  give  it  another  turn,  for  the  excitement  was  too 
much  for  a  man  of  his  great  years  and  sensibility.  So  I 
said  that  "  I  perfectly  agreed  with  General  Washington, 
of  whom  I  entertained  as  exalted  an  opinion  as  he  did;  but 
that  the  circumstances  of  the  times  were  such,  and  the 
prejudices  against  everything  English  so  strong,  it  would 
have  been  utterly  impossible  for  the  framers  of  the  consti- 
tution to  have  done  otherwise  than  they  did  ;  but,"  said  I, 
"  with  reference  to  your  visiting  England,  since  steam-navi- 
jration  has  been  introduced,  the  voyage  has  been  stripped 
of  all  its  discomforts,  and  half  its  duration  ;  and  I  am  con- 
fident the  trip  would  be  as  beneficial  to  your  healtii  as  a  our 
company  would  be  instructive  and  agrcn^ablc  to  us.  liavo 
you  ever  been  there?" — 'Often,"  s;;id  \h\     "Oh   \(ii\      I 


■i!  ii;ii 


■■ir, 

^!{!iH!iiii) 


•Pii'lli  i 


lliilll  I 


if 


"11! 


i   li! 


:  ,  i  :il 


i'l'll  if- 

I 


lif  i 


W'  I 


'ill!! 


■I'm 


221 


SAM   BUCK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


4. 


14 -J- 


■■!(  I 


l-f)    i 


I  i 
V 

i 


know,  or  rather  knew,  dear  old  Erpland  well — very  woll; 
Jiiid  I  had  a  great  many  friends  and  correspondent-^  there; 
among  the  bishops  many  dear,  very  dear  and  learned 
friends  :  but,  alas  !  they  are  gone  now  !"  —  and  he  took  his 
spectacles  off'  and  wiped  them  with  his  handkerchief,  for  a 
tear  had  dimmed  the  glasses  —  "  gone  to  receive  the  reward 
they  have  earned  as  good  and  ffiithfnl  stewards.  Let  me 
see,"  said  ho,  "when  was  I  there  last?  Oh!  my  memory 
fails  me.  I'll  jist  step  into  my  study  and  get  my  journal;" 
but  I  fear  it  was  to  give  vent  to  feelings  that  were  over- 
powering him.  When  he  had  gone,  Mr.  Slick  said  :  "Ain't 
he  a  most  a-beautiful  talker,  that,  squire,  even  when  he  is 
a  little  wanderin'  in  his  mind,  as  he  is  now?  There  is 
nothin'  he  don't  know.  He  is  jist  a  walkin'  dictionary. 
He  not  only  knows  how  to  spell  every  word,  but  he  knows 
its  meanin',  and  its  root  as  he  calls  it,  and  what  nation 
made  it  first.  He  knows  Hebrew  better  nor  any  Jew  yon 
over  see,  for  he  knows  it  so  well  he  can  read  it  backward. 
He  says  it's  the  right  way  ;  but  that's  only  his  modesty, 
for  I  've  tried  English  backward,  and  I  can't  make  no  hand 
of  it.  Oh  !  he'd  wear  a  slate  out  in  no  time,  he  writes  so 
much  on  things  he  thinks  on.  He  is  a  peg  too  low  now. 
I'll  jist  give  him  a  dose  of  soft-sawder;  for  old  or  young, 
men  or  women,  high  or  low,  ^^ery  palate  likes  that.  I'll 
pv.t  him  up,  if  I  can,  another  note  or  so  ;  but  he  is  so 
crotchied,  and  flies  oft'  the  handle  so,  you  hardly  know 
where  to  touch  him.  The  most  curious  thing  about  him 
is  the  way  he  acts  about  the  stars.  He  has  gi'n  'em 
all  names,  and  talks  of  'em  as  if  they  were  humans ;  he 
does,  upon  my  soul.  There  is  his  Mars,  and  Veims,  and 
Saturn,  and  Big  Bear,  and  Little  Bcq^-,  and  the  Lord  knows 


THE   BARREL   WITHOUT    HOOPS. 


225 


what  all.  I  mind,  once  I  put  him  into  a  most  an  allfired 
passion  when  he  was  talkin'  about  'em.  I  never  see  him 
'n  8l"-h  a  rage  before  or  since,  for  he  didn't  speak  for  the 
matter  of  tliree  minntes.  When  he  is  mad,  he  jist  walks 
up  and  down  the  room,  and  counts  a  hundred  to  himself, 
and  that  cools  him,  for  he  says  it's  better  to  have  nothin' 
80  say  than  sunthin'  to  repent  of.  Well,  this  time,  I  guess 
he  counted  two  hundred ;  for  it  was  longer  than  common 
afore  he  had  udded  it  all  up  and  sum-totalized  it.  I  '11  tell 
you  how  it  was.  Him  and  me  was  a-sittin'  talkin'  over 
nothin'  at  all,  jist  as  we  are  now,  when  all  at  once  he  gets 
up  and  goes  to  the  winder,  and  presently  sings  out  — 
'  Sam,'  says  he,  *  put  your  hat  on,  my  boy,  and  let's  go  and 
see  Venus  dip  to-night.'  But  here  he  comes.  I  '11  tell  you 
that  are  story  some  other  time,  for  here  comes  the  old 
minuter." 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THB    BARREL    WITHOUT    HOOPS. 

Such  is  the  charm  of  manner,  that  it  often  happens  that 
what  we  hear  with  pleasure  we  afterward  read  with  dimin- 
ished satisfaction.  I  can  not  now  give  the  words  of  the  min- 
ister, for  the  memory  seldom  retains  more  than  the  substance, 
and  I  am  quite  aware  how  much  these  conversations  lose 
in  repeating.  He  was,  as  Mr.  Slick  observed,  "the  best 
talker  I  ever  heard,"  and  I  regretted  that  my  time  was  so 
limited  I  had  it  not  in  my  power  to  enjoy  more  of  his  soci- 
ety at  this  place,  although   I  am  not  altogether  without 

10 


'm 


lllli      I 


'■liiill'l 
imm' 


il         ! 


'illl 


'  h'A'r 


I! 


m 


.,,,''1 
{  Ii 


^  '  ! 


226 


SAM  SLICK'S  SAYINGS  AND   DOINGS. 


mi 

fer 

■if  I 


; 


'  ■?■ 


i  i 


4  ' 


p  L    I 


a  Hi 

1     '•         >!    I 

I  *  4 1 


I 


•i:'i;li 


hopes  that,  as  I  have  enlisted  "  Aunt  Hetty"  on  my  side, 
I  have  succeeded  in  persuading  him  to  accompany  us  to 
England.  Hc»v  delightful  it  would  be  to  hear  his  observa- 
tions on  the  aspect  of  affairs  there  —  to  hear  him  contrast 
the  present  with  the  past,  and  listen  to  his  conjectures 
about  the  future.  With  such  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
man,  and  such  an  extensive  experience  as  he  has  had  of 
the  operation  of  various  forms  of  government,  his  predic- 
tions would  appear  almost  prophetic.  When  he  returned 
from  his  study,  Mr.  Slick  rose  and  left  the  room  in  search 
of  amusement  in  the  village,  and  I  availed  myself  of  the 
opportunity  to  ascertain  his  opinions  respecting  the  adjoin- 
ing colonies ;  for  the  constant  interruption  he  received  from 
the  ciockmaker  had  a  tendency  to  make  his  conversation 
too  desultory  for  one  whose  object  was  instruction.  I  there- 
fore lost  no  time  in  asking  him  what  changes  he  thought 
"  would  be  desirable  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  people 
in  British-America,  and  perpetuate  the  connection  with 
England  ?" 

"  Ah  !  sir,"'  said  he,  "  that  word  •  change'  is  '  the  incanta- 
tion that  calls  fools  into  a  circle.'  It  is  the  ridcile  that  per- 
plexes British  statesmen,  and  the  rock  on  which  they  are 
constantly  making  shipwreck.  They  are  like  our  friend 
Samuel,  who  changes  his  abode  so  often,  that  removal  has 
become  necessary  to  his  very  existence.  A  desire  for  po- 
litical change,  like  a  fondness  for  travel,  grows  witli  the  in- 
dulgence. What  you  want  in  the  colonies  is  tranqnillity,  not 
change.  Quod  pet  is  hie  est.  You  may  change  constitutions 
for  ever,  but  you  can  not  change  man.  He  is  still  unaltered 
under  every  vicissitude,  the  same  restless,  discontented, 
dissatisfied  animal.     Even  in  this  pure  unmixed  democracy 


Sa*,- 


THE   BARREL   WITHOUT   HOOPS. 


227 


of  ours,  he  is  as  loud  in  his  complaints  as  under  the  strict- 
est despotism  ;  nay,  louder,  for  the  more  he  is  indulged  the 
more  intractable  he  becomes.  The  object  of  statesmen, 
therefore,  should  be,  not  to  study  what  changes  should  be 
conceded,  but  the  causes  that  lead  men  to  desire  change. 
The  restlessness  in  the  colonies  proceeds  not  from  griev- 
ances —  for,  with  the  exception  of  a  total  absence  of  patron- 
age, they  do  not  exist — but  it  is  caused  by  an  >sines8 
of  position,  arising  from  a  want  of  room  to  move  in.  There 
is  no  field  for  ambition,  no  room  for  the  exercise  of  distin- 
guished talent  in  the  provinces.  The  colonists,  when  com- 
paring their  situation  with  that  of  their  more  fortunate 
brethren  in  England,  find  all  honor  monopolized  at  home, 
and  employment,  preferments,  and  titles,  liberally  bestowed 
on  men  frequently  inferior,  in  intellect  and  ability,  to  them- 
selves, and  this  invidious  distinction  sinks  deeper  into  the 
heart  than  they  are  willing  to  acknowledge  themselves. 
Men  seldom  avow  the  real  motives  of  their  actions.  A  lit- 
tleness of  feeling  is  often,  in  reality,  the  source  of  conduct 
that  claims  to  spring  from  a  virtue.  A  slight,  an  insult,  or 
a  disappointment,  jealousy,  envy,  or  personal  dislike,  often 
find  a  convenient  shelter  in  agitation,  and  a  more  respecta- 
ble name  in  patriotism.  A  man  who  quits  his  church  in 
teUiper  would  have  you  believe  he  has  scruples  of  con- 
science, which  he  requires  you  to  respect;  and  he  who 
rebels,  in  the  hope  of  amending  his  fortune,  ascribes  his 
c-.iduct  to  an  ardent  love  of  country,  and  a  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  freedom.  Grievances  are  convenient  masks  under 
which  to  hide  our  real  objects.  The  great  question  then  is, 
what  induces  men  in  the  provinces  to  resort  to  them  as  pre- 
texts 1     The  cause  now,  as  in  1777,  is  the  absence  of  all 


:'-/!i!'i 


III 


ill! 


''■'  i'.'i'''- 


"My 


:  ill 


228 


8AM    SLICK'S    SAYINGS    AND    DOINGS. 


patronage  —  the  impossibility  there  is  for  talent  to  rise; 
want  of  room  —  of  that  employment  that  is  required  for 
ability  of  a  certain  description ;  at  least,  this  is  the  cause 
with  those  who  have  the  power  to  influence  —  to  lead  —  to 
direct  public  opinion.  I  allude  only  to  these  men,  for  the 
haders  nre  the  workmen,  find  the  multitude  their  tools.  It 
is  difficult  to  make  an  Englishman  comprehend  this.  Our 
successful  rebellion,  one  would  have  supp  sed,  would  not 
easily  have  been  forgotten;  but, unfortunately,  it  was  a  les- 
son not  all  understood." 

This  was  so  novel  a  view  of  the  subject,  and  the  asser- 
tion that  all  the  recent  complaints  were  fictitious,  was  so 
different  from  what  I  had  apprehended  to  be  the  case, 
that  I  could  not  resist  asking  him  if  there  were  no  real 
grievances  in  J777,  when  his  countrymen  took  up  arms 
against  us  ? 

"No,  sir,"  said  he,  "none  —  none  of  any  magnitude, 
except  the  attempt  to  tax  for  the  purpose  of  revenue,  which 
was  wrong,  very  wrong,  indeed  ;  hvt  if  that  which  was  put 
forth,  as  the  main  one,  had  heen  the  real  cause,  when  it 
ceased,  the  rehellion  would  have  ceased  also.  But  there  was 
another,  a  secret  and  unavowed,  the  more  powerful  cause, 
the  want  of  patronage.  I  will  explain  this  to  you.  States- 
men have  always  been  prone  to  consider  the  colonies  as  a 
field  reserved  for  the  5>upport  of  their  dependants,  and  they 
are,  unfortunately,  so  distant  from  the  parent-state  that  the 
rays  of  royal  favor  do  not  easily  penetrate  so  far.  Noisy 
applicants,  mercenary  voters,  and  importunate  suitors  at 
home,  engross  the  attention  and  monopolize  the  favor  of 
those  in  power,  and  provincial  merit  is  left  to  languish  for 
want  of  encouragement.     Tiie  provincials  hear  of  corona- 


THE    BARREL    WITHOUT    HOOPS. 


229 


!i!l 


tion  honors,  of  flattering  distinctions,  and  of  marks  of  royal 
favor ;  but,  alas  !  they  participate  not  in  them.  A  few  of 
the  petty,  h)cal  officers,  which  they  pay  themselves  out  of 
their  little  revenue,  have  long  since  been  held  their  due, 
and,  within  these  few  years,  I  hear  tl)e  reformers  have  gen- 
erously promised  not  to  deprive  them  of  this  valuable  pa- 
tronage in  any.  case  where  it  is  not  required  for  others. 
Beyond  this  honorable  parish  rank  no  man  can  rise,  and 
we  look  in  vain  for  the  name  of  a  colonist,  whatever  bis 
loyalty,  his  talent,  or  his  services  may  be,  out  of  the  limits 
of  his  own  country.  The  colonial  clergy  are  excluded  from 
the  dignities  of  the  church  of  England,  the  lawyers  from 
the  preferments  of  the  bar,  and  the  medical  men  from  prac- 
tising out  of  their  own  country,  while  the  professions  in  the 
colonies  are  open  to  all  who  migrate  thither.  The  avenues 
to  the  army  and  navy,  and  all  the  departments  of  the  impe- 
rial service,  are  practically  closed  to  them.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  intimate  knowledge  they  possess  on  colonial  sub- 
jects, who  of  thv.Ir  leading  men  are  ever  selected  to  govern 
other  provinces  ?  A  captain  in  the  navy,  a  colonel  in  the 
army,  a  London  merchant,  or  an  unprovided  natural  son  — 
any  person,  in  short,  from  whose  previous  education  consti- 
tutional law  has  been  wholly  excluded  —  is  thought  ^*'tter 
qualified,  or  more  eligible,  for  these  important  duties,  than 
a  colonist ;  while  that  department  that  manages  and  directs 
all  these  dependencies  seldom  contains  one  individual  that 
has  ever  been  out  of  Great  Britain.  A  peerage  generally 
awaits  a  governor-general ;  but  indifference  or  neglect  re- 
wards those  through  whose  intelligence  and  ability  he  is 
alone  enabled  to  discharge  his  duties.  The  same  remedy 
for  this  contemptuous  neglect  occurs  to  all  men,  in  all  ages. 


I  li  i 


IFi:  III 


11  li 


mm 


!l  iiiiiil'i!!' 


1.:! 


Hi 


'.■  li 


■';i  iiii 


IS  J' 


230 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS  A^       DOINGS. 


Si  I: 


4» 


.'.If  , 


li 


i   i 


■1 


Wlien  tlie  flelc  gate  from  the  Gabii  consulted  Tarquin.  he 
took  him  into  his  garden,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  cut  off 
the  heads  of  the  tallest  poppies.  The  hint  was  not  lost, 
and  the  patricians  soon  severally  disappeared.  When  our 
agent  in  France  mentioned  the  diflficulties  that  subsisted 
between  us  and  Britain,  the  king  significantly  pointed  to 
a  piece  of  ordnance,  and  observed  it  was  an  able  negotiator, 
and  the  meaning  was  too  obvious  to  be  disregarded.  When 
Papineau,  more  recently,  asked  advice  of  the  reformers  in 
England,  he  was  told,  '  Keep  the  glorious  example  of  the 
United  States  constantly  in  view  ;'  and  an  insurrection  soon 
followed,  to  destroy  what  his  friend  called  'the  baneful 
domination.' 

"  The  consequence  of  this  oversight  or  neglect,  as  our  rev- 
olution and  the  late  disturbances  in  Canada  but  too  plainly 
evince,  is,  that  ambition,  disappointed  of  its  legitimate  exer- 
cise, is  apt,  in  its  despair,  to  attempt  the  enlargement  of  its 
sphere  by  the  use  of  the  sword.  Washington,  it  is  well 
known,  felt  the  chilling  influence  of  this  policy.  Having 
attained,  early  in  life,  to  great  influence  by  the  favor  of 
his  countrymen,  not  only  without  the  aid,  but  against  the 
neglect  of  the  commander-in-chief,  he  saw  a  regular,  and 
sometimes  not  a  very  judicious  advancement  in  the  military 
operations  of  America,  of  every  man  who  had  the  good 
fortune  not  to  be  a  colonist.  He  felt  that  his  country  was 
converted  into  one  of  the  great  stages  at  which  these 
favored  travellers  rested  for  a  time  to  reap  the  reward  of 
their  exile,  and  resume  their  journey  up  the  ascent  of  life, 
while  all  those  who  permanently  resided  here  were  doomed 
to  be  stationary  spectators  of  this  mortifying  spectacle. 
Conscious  of  his  own  powers,  he  smarted  under  this  treat- 


!•; 


H^'- 


THE  BARBEL   WITHOUT  HOOPS. 


231 


ment,  and  he  who  became  too  powerful  for  Ji  subject  might, 
under  a  wiser  and  kinder  policy,  have  been  transferred  to 
a  higher  and  more  honorable  position  in  another  colony. 
Progressive  advancement,  to  which  his  talents,  and  at  one 
time  his  services,  gave  him  a  far  better  claim  than  most  gov- 
ernors can  exhibit,  would  have  deprived  him  of  the  motive, 
the  means,  and  the  temptation,  to  seek  in  patriotism  what 
was  denied  to  merit  and  loyalty.  History  affords  us  some 
recent  instances,  in  which  the  administration  in  the  parent- 
state  have  relieved  themselves  of  '  an  inconvenient  friend,* 
by  giving  him  an  appointment  abroad.  Ambitious  men 
who  attain  to  this  inconvenient  eminence  in  the  colonies 
might,  with  equal  advantage  to  the  country  and  themselves, 
be  transferred  to  a  more  extended  and  safer  sphere  of  action 
in  other  parts  of  the  empire.  No  man  now  pretends  to 
deny,  that  it  was  the  want  of  some  such  safety-valve  that 
caused  the  explosion  in  these  old  colonies  that  now  form 
the  United  States.  Patriotism  then,  as  in  all  ages,  covered 
a  multitude  of  sins  ;  and  he  who  preferred,  like  a  Washing- 
ton, a  Jefi'erson,  or  an  Adams,  the  command  of  armies,  the 
presidential  chair  of  a  great  nation,  and  the  patronage  and 
other  attributes  of  royalty,  to  the  rank  of  a  retired  planter,  a 
practising  provincial  barrister,  or  an  humble  representative 
in  a  local  legislature,  easily  became  a  convert  to  the  doc- 
trine that  a  stamp-act  was  illegal,  and  a  tax  on  tea  an 
intolerable  oppression.  When  loyalty,  like  chastity,  ie:  con- 
sidered, as  it  now  is,  to  be  its  own  great  reward,  and  agita- 
tion is  decorated  with  so  many  brilliant  prizes,  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  if  men  constantly  endeavor  to  persuade 
themselves  that  every  refusal  of  a  request  is  both  an  arbi- 
trary and  unjust  exercise  of  power,  that  denial  justifies 


!,  ''I 


3 


fiiJS 


11 


\m 


m 


k:f  jl 
'%  ij 

•m 

r*  ,;1      ll 


nKi 


232 


SAM   SUCK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


M 


■    : 

-    :\      ' 

i ! 


!».'. 


t 


reBistance,  and  that  resistance  is  a  virtue.  Instead  of  con- 
ceding to  popular  cluinor  changes  that  are  dangerous,  it  is 
safer  and  wiser  to  give  ambition  a  new  direction,  and  to 
show  tiiat  the  government  has  the  disposition  to  patronize, 
as  well  as  the  power  to  punish.  It  is  unjust  to  the  queen, 
and  unkind  to  the  colonists,  to  exhibit  the  image  of  their 
sovereign  in  no  other  attitude  than  that  of  an  avenging  des- 
pot exacting  obedience,  and  enforcing  dependence.  Roy- 
alty has  other  qualities  that  appeal  to  the  hearts  of  subjects ; 
but  parliamentary  influence  is  too  selfish,  and  toe  busy,  to 
permit  statesmen  to  regard  colonists  in  any  other  light  than 
the  humble  tenantry  of  the  distant  possessions  of  the  empire. 
Grievances  (except  the  unavowed  one  I  have  just  men- 
tioned, which ;  is  the  prolific  parent  of  all  that  bear  the 
name  of  patriots),  fortunately  do  not  exist ;  but  ambitious 
men,  like  hypochondriacs,  when  real  evils  are  wanting, 
often  supply  their  place  with  imaginary  ones.  Provincial- 
ism and  nationality  are  difierent  degrees  of  the  same  thing, 
and  both  take  their  rise  in  the  same  feeling — love  of  coun- 
try—  while  no  colony  is  so  poor  or  so  small  as  not  to  engen- 
der it.  The  public  or  distinguished  men  of  a  province  are 
public  property,  and  the  people  feel  an  interest  in  them  in 
an  inverse  ratio,  perhaps,  to  their  own  individual  want  of 
importance.  To  those  who  have  the  distribution  of  this 
patronage,  it  must  be  gratifying  to  know,  that  when  this  is 
the  case,  an  act  of  justice  will  always  appear  an  act  of 
grace." 

"  Here  we  is  agin,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  who  now  entered  the 
room.  "  How  am  you  was  ?  how  is  you  been  ?  as  Tousand 
Teyvils  said  to  the  Dutch  governor.  Well,  minister,  did 
you  find  the  date  1     Whyn  w  as  it  you  was  in  England 


thS  barrel  without  hoops. 


288 


last?"  Nothing  coiild  be  more  provoking  than  this  inter- 
ruption, for  the  subject  we  were  talking  upon  was  one  of 
great  interest  to  a  colonist,  and  no  opportunity  occurred  of 
reverting  to  it  afterward.  The  change  of  the  topic,  how- 
ever, was  not  more  sudden  than  the  change  of  Mr.  Hope- 
well's manner  and  style  of  speaking ;  for  he  adopted  at 
onbe  the  familiar  and  idiomatic  language  to  which  Mr.  Slick 
was  more  accustomed,  as  one  better  suited  to  the  level  of 
his  understanding.  "  It  was  in  '85,"  said  Mr.  Hopewell ;  "  I 
haven't  been  to  England  since,  and  that's  fifty-five  years 
ago.  It  is  a  long  time  that,  isn't  it  ?  How  many  changes 
have  taken  place  since !  I  don't  suppose  I  should  know  it 
agin  nowv" — "  Why  minister,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  you  put  me 
in  mind  of  the  prophet." — •'  Yes,  yes,  Sam,"  said  he,  "  I 
dare  saj  I  do,  for  you  are  always  a-thinkin*  on  profit  and 
loss  :  Natur'  jist  fitted  you  for  a  trader.  Dollars  and  cents 
is  always  uppermost  on  your  mind." — "Oh,  dear!"  he  re- 
plied, "I  didn't  mean  that  at  all  —  I  mean  him  that  got 
on  Pisgah.  You  have  attained  such  n  height  as  it  mought 
be  in  years  —  you  can  see  a  great  way  behind,  and  ever  so 
far  ahead.  You  have  told  us  what 's  'fore  us  in  our  great 
republic,  now  tell  us  what's  afore  England." — "First  of 
all,"  said  he,  "I'll  tell  you  what's  afore  you,  my  son,  and 
that  is,  if  you  talk  in  that  are  loose  way  to  Britain,  about 
sacred  things  and  persons,  you  won't  be  admitted  into  no 
decent  man's  house  at  all,  and  I  wouldn't  admit  you  into 
mine  if  I  did  n't  know  your  tongue  was  the  worsest  part  of 
you,  and  that  it  neither  spoke  for  the  head  or  heart,  but 
jist  for  itself.  As  for  the  English  empire,  Sam,  it's  tho 
greatest  the  world  ever  seed.  The  sun  never  sets  on  it. 
The  banner  of  England  float'  -^u  every  breeze  and  on  every 


HI  II 


''ill 


I,. I 


I 


m 


m 

m 

m 
k 

i! 

■| 

il;! 


U'Mi' 


■i,:i':ii 


M  1, 

mill 


mi 


:\U 


!iii|'|i|    11!! 


2.?4 


8AM   BUCK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


■  «■* 


ir  I 


.  I    'i 


r  . 


4im 
Ir 

i    .li  1 


son.  So  many  parts  and  jtiecos  require  good  management 
and  groat  skill  to  hind  together,  for  it  ain't  a  whole  of 
itself,  like  a  single-stick  mast,  hut  a  spliced  one,  composed 
of  numerous  pieces  and  joints.  Now,  the  most  beautiful 
thing  of  the  kind  —  not  political,  but  mechanical  —  is  a 
barrel.  I  defy  any  one  but  a  rael  cooper  to  make  one  so 
as  to  hold  water;  indeed,  it  ain't  every  cooper  can  do  it, 
for  there  are  bungling  coopers  as  well  as  bungling  states- 
men. Now,  see  how  many  staves  there  are  in  a  barrel — " 
("  Do  you  mean  a  barrel-organ  V*  said  the  clockrnaker,  "  for 
some  o'  them  grind  some  very  tidy  staves,  of  times,  I  tell 
you." — *'  Pooh  !"  said  Mr.  Hopewell)  —  "  how  well  they  all 
fit,  how  tight  they  all  come  together,  how  firm  and  secure 
the  hoops  keep  them  in  their  places.  Well,  when  it's  right 
done,  it  don't  leak  one  drop,  and  you  can  stand  it  upon 
eend,  or  lay  it  down  on  its  side,  and  roll  it  over  and  over, 
and  still  it  seems  as  if  it  were  all  solid  wood.  Not  only 
that,  but  put  it  into  a  vessel,  and  clap  a  thousand  of  them 
right  a-top  of  one  another,  and  they  won't  squash  in,  but 
bear  any  weight  you  choose  to  put  on  them.  But,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  but,  sir,  cut  the  hoops  and  where  is  your  barrel  ?" 
— ("  Where  is  the  liquor  ?  you  should  my"  said  Mr.  Slick, 
"  for  that  is  always  worth  a  great  deal  more  than  the  bar- 
rel by  a  long  chalk,  and  while  you  are  a-talkin'  about  coop- 
erin',  I  will  jist  go  and  tap  that  Mce  cask  of  prime  old  East 
Ingy  Madeira  Captain  Ned  Sparro  gave  you." — "  Do,"  said 
My.  Hopewell ;  "  I  am  sorry  I  didn't  think  of  it  afore  ;  but 
don't  shake  it,  Sam,  or  you'll  ryle  it.)  Well,  sir,  where  is 
your  barrel  1  why,  a  heap  of  old  iron  hoops  and  wooden 
staves.  Now,  in  time,  the  heat  of  Ihe  sun,  and  rollin'  about, 
and  what  not,  shrinks  a  cask,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 


THE   BARRKL   WITHOUT   HOOPS. 


285 


the  lioops  nil  loosen,  arid  you  must  drive  them  up  occasion- 
ally, to  keep  all  tight  and  snug.  A  little  attention  this 
way,  and  it  will  lant  for  ever  a'most.  Now,  somehow  or 
another,  the  British  appear  to  me  of  late  years  to  revarse 
this  rule,  and  instead  of  tightening  the  hoops  of  their  great 
body  politic,  as  they  ought  to  do,  they  loosen  them,  and  if 
they  continue  to  do  so  much  longer,  that  great  empire  will 
tumble  to  pieces  as  sure  as  we  are  a-talkin'  here. 

"  Now,  one  of  the  great  bonds  of  society  is  religion — a 
national  establishment  of  religion — one  that  provides,  at 
the  expense  of  the  state,  for  the  religious  education  of  the 
poor  —  one  that  inculcates  good  morals  with  sound  doctrines 
—  one  that  teaches  folks  to  honor  the  king,  at  the  same  time 
that  it  commands  them  to  fear  God  —  one  that  preaches 
humility  to  the  rich,  deference  to  the  poor,  and  exacts  from 
both  an  obedience  to  the  laws  —  one  that  seeks  the  light  it 
disperses  to  others  from  that  sacred  source,  the  Bible ;  and 
so  far  from  being  ashamed  of  it,  from  excluding  it  from 
schools,  says  to  all,  '  Search  the  Scriptures' — one,  in  short, 
that  makes  people  at  once  good  men,  good  Christians,  and 
good  subjects.  They  have  got  this  to  England,  and  they 
arc  happy  enough  to  have  it  in  the  colonies.  It's  inter- 
woven into  the  state  so  beautiful,  and  yet  so  skilful,  that 
while  the  church  in  not  j^olitical,  tht  state  is  not  religious. 
There  is  nothin'  like  their  liturgy  in  any  language,  nor 
never  will  be  agin ;  and  all  good  men  may  be  made  better 
for  their  Book  of  Prayer  —  a  book  every  protestant  ought 
to  revere  —  for  them  that  compiled  it  laid  down  their  lives 
for  it.  It  was  written  in  the  hluod  of  fhc  martyrs,  and  not 
like  some  (ithers  1  could  tell  you  of,  in  the  hJood  of  its  mis- 
erable victims.     Now,  when  I  see  ten  pr»  .'estant  bishops  cut 


■,,ii 


'i  !N' 


'i!i!:i 


I.:  I  I 

mk 


II I 


,  I,  ",'\ 


j;;iM  i 


■-\\\.,.\\-  \\ 


ll 


23G 


BAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND  DOINGS. 


i^ 


off  at  one  fell  swoop  from  Ireland,  where  they  are  so  mnch 
needed,  I  say  you  arc  looscnin'  the  hoops.     When  I  see  aid 
withdr  twn  from  the  colonial  church.,  their  temporalities  in- 
terfered with,  and  an  attempt  made  to  take  away  the  char- 
ter from  its  college  to  Windsor,  Nova  Scotia  —  when  I  hear 
that  the  loypl  colonists  say  (J  hope  the  report  ain't  true) 
that  they  are  discouraged,  agitators  boact  they  are  patron- 
ized, and  rebels  runnin'  about  with  pardons  in  their  hands 
—  when  I  hear  there  ain't  difference  enough  made  between 
truly  good  conservative  subjects  and  factious  demagogues, 
I  say  you  are  looseniifC  the  hoops  ;  and  when  I  hear  all  talk 
and  no  cider,  as  the  sayin'  is,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  who  just  then 
returned  with  some  of  the  old  wine  from  the  cellar,  ••  I  say 
it  *8  dry  work  ;  so  here  's  to  you,  minister,  and  let  me  advise 
you  to  moisten  them  are  staves,  your  ribs,  or  your  hoops 
will  off,  I  tell  you.     Put  a  pint  of  that  are  good  old  stuff 
under  your  waistcoat  every  day,  and  see  how  beautiful 
your  skin  v/ill  fit  at  the  eend  of  a  month.     You  might  beat 
a  tattoo  on  it  like  a  aiuni." — "  You  give  your  tongue  a  lit- 
tle too  much   license,   Sam,"   said  Mr.  Hopewell ;    •*  but, 
squire,  he  is  a  r.ort  of  privileged  man  here,  and  T  don't 
mind  him.     Help  yourself,  if  you  please,  sir.     Here's  a 
pleasant  voyage  to  you,  sir.     As  I  was  a-sayin',  when  I 
hear  it  said  to  the  bench  of  bishops,  '  Put  your  house  in 
order,  for  your  days  are  numbered,'  I  say  you  are  more 
than  loosenin'  the  hoops,  you  are  stavin'  in  the  cask.     There 
are  some  things  I  do  n't  onderstand,  and  some  things  I  hear 
I  do  n't  believe.     I  am  no  politician  ;  but  I  should  Hke  to 
go  to  England,  if  I  warn't  too  old,  to  see  into  the  actual 
state  of  things.     How  is  it  there  is  a  hoop  loose  to  New- 
foundland, another  to  the  West  Ingies,  and  half  a  dozen  to 


THE   BARREL   WITHOUT   HOOPS. 


237 


Canada,  another  to  the  East,  and  one  in  almost  every 
colony  ?  How  is  it  there  is  chartism  and  socialism  in  Eng- 
land, secret  associations  in  Ireland,  rebellion  in  your  prov- 
inces, and  agitation  everywhere  ?  The  '!.oops  want  tight- 
ening. The  leaders  of  all  these  teams  are  runnin'  wild 
because  the  reins  are  held  too  loose,  and  because  they 
think  the  state-coachmen  are  afeerd  on  'em.  I  hear  they 
now  talk  of  responsible  government  in  the  colonies ;  is  that 
true,  sir  ?"  I  replied,  "  It  had  some  advocates,  and  it  was 
natural  it  should.  All  men  like  power;  and,  as  it  would 
place  the  governor*  in  subjection  to  the  governc^Z,  it  was 
too  agreeable  a  privilege  not  to  be  desired  by  popular 
leaders." — "  That,"  said  he,  "  (and  few  men  livin'  know 
more  nor  I  do  about  colonies,  for  I  was  born  in  one,  and 
saw  it  grow  and  ripen  into  an  independent  state)  —  that  is 
the  last  bond  of  union  between  Great  Britain  and  her  col- 
onies. Let  her  sever  that  bond,  and  she  will  find  she  re- 
sembles —  the  barrel  withjut  hoops.''^ 


1(1.-. 


;iillib' 


i  ■■ 


M 


I  II  I: 


I 

Ill"  ■ 


liiM 

In 


ill 

I  :  II!:  I  ' 


0,i 


Vil: 


m 

t'f  ': 


238 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


CHAPTER   XX. 


FACING    A    WOMAN. 


r^ 


y.'r 


f  il 


This  was  the  day  fixed  for  our  departure,  and  I  must  say 
I  never  felt  so  much  regret  at  leaving  any  family  I  had 
known  for  so  short  a  time  as  I  experienced  on  the  present 
occasion.  Mr.  Slick,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  v/as  aware  of 
my  feelings,  and  to  prevent  the  formality  of  bidding  adieu, 
commenced  a  rhodomontade  conversation  with  Aunt  Hetty. 
As  soon  as  we  rose  from  the  breakfast-table,  he  led  her  to 
one  of  the  windows,  and  said,  with  a  solemnity  that  was 
quite  ludicrous,  "  He  is  very  ill,  very  ill,  indeed ;  he  looks 
as  sick  as  death  in  the  primer :  I  guess  it 's  gone  goose 
with  him." 

"  Who  is  ill  ]"  said  Aunt  Hetty,  in  great  alarm.  "  He  is 
up  a  tree;  his  flint  is  fixed,  you  may  depend." — "Who, 
Sam  ?  tell  me,  dear,  who  it  is." — "  And  he  so  far  from 
home;  ain't  it  horrid?  and  pisoned,  too,  and  that  in  minis- 
ter's house." — "  Lord,  Sam,  how  you  frighten  a  body  !  who 
is  pisoned  ?" — *'  The  squire,  aunty  ;  do  n't  you  see  how 
pale  he  looks." — "Pisoned!  oh,  for  ever!  Well,  I  want 
to  know.  Lawful  heart  alive  !  how  could  he  be  pisored  ? 
O  Sam  !  I  '11  tell  you ;  I  've  got  it  now.  How  stupid  it 
was  of  me  not  to  ask  him  if  he  could  eat  them;  it's  them 
prcsavved  strawberrios ;  yes,  yes,  it 's  the  strawberries. 
They  do  pison  some  folks.  There  was  Sister  Wood- 
bridge's  son's  wife's  youngest  darter  that  she  had  by  the 


11,; 


mm 


!ii'i!li 


FACING    A    WOltfAN. 


239 


first  marriage,  Prudence.     Well,  Prudence  never  could  eat 

them  ;    they  always   brought  on "     "  Oh,  it 's    worse 

nor  that,  aunty ;    it  ain't  strawberries,  tho'  I  know  they 

ain't  good  eatin'  for  them  that  don't  like  them.     It's " 

"And  a  mustard  emetic  was  the  onliest  thing  hi  natur'  to 

relieve  her.     It  made  her "      '•  Oh,  it  ain't  them,  it's 

love:  you've  killed  him." — "Me,  Sam!  why  how  yon 
talk  !  what  on  airth  do  you  mean  V* — "  You  've  killed  him 
as  dead  as  a  herring.  I  told  you  your  eyes  would  cut 
right  into  him,  for  he  was  as  soft  as  a  pig  fed  on  beechnuts 
iind  raw  potatoes;  but  you  wouldn't  believe  me.  Oh! 
you've  done  the  job  for  him  :  he  told  me  so  hisself.  Says 
he,  '  Mr.  Slick'  (for  he  always  calls  me  Mr.  he  is  so  formal), 
says  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,  you  may  talk  of  lovely  women,  but  I 
know  a  gall  that  is  a  heavenly  splice.     What  eyes  she  has, 

and  what  feet,  and  what  a  neck,  and  what  a '  "    *'  Why, 

Sam,  the  man  is  mad  :  he  has  taken  leave  of  his  senses." — 
"Mad  !  I  guess  he  is  —  ravin'  distracted.  Your  eyes  have 
pisoned  him.  He  says,  'Of  all  the  affectionate  sisters  and 
charmiri:  women  he  ever  seed,  you  do  beat  all.'  " — •'  Oh  !  he 
meanh  ./'a  I  once  was,  Sam  ;  for  I  \^as  considered  a  like- 
ly gall  .  r  •  day,  that's  a  fact;  but,  dear  o'  me,  only  to 
think  times  i  altered." — '•  Yes,  but  you  ain't  altered  ;  '  For,' 
says  he  —  'for  a  woman  of  her  great  age,  Aunt  Hetty  is — '  " 
•  Well,  he  had  n't  much  to  do,  then,  to  talk  of  my  advanced 
age,  for  I  am  not  so  old  as  all  that  comes  to  nother.  He  is 
no  gentleman  to  talk  that  way,  and  you  may  icll  him  so." 
— "  No,  I  am  wrong  ;  he  did  n't  say  *  great  age,'  he  said 
'  great  beauty  :  she  is  very  unaffected.'  " — "  Well,  I  thought 
he  wouldn't  be  so  rude  as  to  remark  on  a  lady's  age."-^ 
"  Says  he,  '  Her  gray  hairs  suit  her  complexion.'  " — "  Well, 


illjii! 


.[H 


a'  ! 


ii:,!! 


il 


H 

m 


ipif'l; 


■M 


I  i  I II 


1 

P^ 

1 

;->;'    ■- 

1 

" 

1 

' 

«l 

"W  ' 

* !' 

Ij 

i'* 

■» 

f 

)%  y 

r: 

%'  ^i 

f: 

Ir'f 

.v  ■ 

j' 

M 

1 

'^ 

1 1 

t 

t 

1  :' 

,0 

M 

i    i 

*!; 

1  ■ 

<, 

1  ^ 

■■■?  1' 

i^ 

I-'  ) 

-•"  I 

1 ,. 

V   : 

1 ' 

^^  1 

■  ■ 

-V 

!|      i 

'■' 

\       • 

Pi    ■ 

if 

n 

i 

t 

1 

1 

■,\. 

240 


SAM    SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND    DOINGS. 


I  don't  thank  him  for  his  impedance,  nor  you  nother  for 
repeatin'  it." — "  No,  I  mean  gray  eyes.  He  said  he  ad- 
mired the  eyes:  gray  was  his  coh>r." — "Well,  I  thought 
he  would  n't  be  so  vulgar,  for  he  is  a  very  pretty  man,  and 
a  very  polite  man,  too  ;  and  I  do  n't  see  the  blue  nose  you 
spoke  of  nother." — "  And  says  he,  '  If  I  could  muster  cour- 
age, I  would  propose '"     "But,  Sam,  it's  so  sudden. 

Oh,  dear !  I  am  in  such  a  fluster,  I  shall  faint." — " '  I  shall 

propose  for  her  to '  "     "  Oh  !  I  never  could  on  such 

short  notice.     I   have  nothing  but  black  made  up  ;    and 

there  is  poor  Joshua "     "  '  I  should  propose  for  her  to 

accompany  her   brother '  "     •*  Well,  if  Joshua  would 

consent  to  go  with  us  —  but,  poor  soul !  he  couldn't  travel, 
I  don't  think." — "  *  To  accompany  her  brother  as  far  as 
New  York,  for  his  infirmities  require  a  kind  nurse.'  " — "  Oh, 
dear  !  is  that  all  ?  How  mighty  narvons  he  is.  I  guess 
the  crittur  is  pisoned  sure  enough,  but  then  it 's  with  aflfec- 
tation," — "  Come,  aunty,  a  kiss  at  partin'.  We  are  off; 
good-by  ;  but  that  was  an  awful  big  hole  you  made  in  his 
heart,  too.  You  broke  the  pane  clean  out  and  only  left  the 
sash.  He 's  a  caution  to  behold.  Good-by!"  And  away 
we  went  from  Slickville. 

During  our  morning's  drive,  the  probability  of  a  war 
with  England  was  talked  of;  and,  in  the  course  of  conver- 
sation, Mr.  Slick  said,  with  a  grave  face  :  "  Squire,  you  say 
we  Yankees  boast  too  much  ;  and  it  ain't  improbable  we  do, 
seein'  that  we  have  whipped  the  Ingians,  the  French,  the 
British,  the  Spaniards,  the  Algerines,  the  Malaya,  and 
every  created  crittur  a'most  that  dared  to  stand  afore  us, 
and  try  his  hand  at  it.  So  much  success  is  e'en  a'most 
enough  to  turn  folks'  heads,  and  make  'em  a  little  consaited, 


i  1': 


FACING   A    WOMAN. 


241 


ain't  it  ?  Now  give  me  your  candid  opinion ;  I  won't  be 
the  leastest  morsel  offended,  if  you  do  give  it  agin'  us ;  hut 
speak  onresarved  —  who  do  you  tliink  is  the  bravest  peo- 
ple, the  Yankees  or  the  British  ]  I  should  like  to  hear 
your  mind  upon  it," — "They  are  the  same  people,"  I  said, 
"differing  as  little,  perhaps,  from  each  other  as  the  inhab- 
itants of  any  two  counties  in  England ;  and  it  is  deeply  to 
be  deplored  that  two  such  gallant  nations,  having  a  common 
origin  and  a  common  language,  and  so  intimately  connected 
by  the  ties  of  consanguinity  and  mutual  interest,  should 
ever  imbrue  their  hands  in  each  other's  blood.  A  war  be- 
tween people  thus  peculiarly  related  is  an  unnatural  spec- 
tacle, that  no  rational  man  can  contemplate  without  horror. 
In  the  event  of  any  future  contest,  the  issue  will  be  as 
heretofore  —  sometimes  in  favor  of  one,  and  sometimes  of 
the  Oiuer.  Superior  discipline  will  decide  some  engage- 
ments, and  numbers  others,  while  accidental  circumstances 
will  turn  the  scale  in  many  a  well-fought  field.  If  you  ask 
me,  therefore,  which  I  conceive  to  be  the  braver  people  of 
the  two,  I  should  unquestionably  say,  neither  claim  pre- 
eminence. All  people  of  the  same  stock,  living  in  a  similar 
climate,  and  having  nearly  the  same  diet  and  habits,  must, 
as  a.  matter  of  course,  possess  animal  courage,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  in  the  same  degree.  I  say  habits,  because  we 
know  that,  in  individuals,  habits  have  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  it.  For  instance,  a  soldier  will  exhibit  great  fear  if 
ordered  to  reef  a  topsail ;  and  a  sailor,  if  mounted  on  the — " 
"  Well,  well,"  said  he,  •'  p'rhaps  you  are  right ;  but  boastin' 
does  some  good,  too.  Only  get  people  to  think  they  can 
do  a  thing,  and  they  can  do  it.  The  British  boasted  that 
one  Englishman  could  whip  three  Frenchmen,  and  it  warn't 


I 


■I'M. 


mi 


m 


m 


'     llii 


:l   i 

:;:  'iil 


242 


SAM   BUCK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


|:r 


"ft 


p*  it 


i  ! 


I  s 


I 


I- J  -ii 


without  its  effect  in  the  wars,  as  Bonaparte  knowed  to  his 
cost.  Now,  oiu  folks  boast  that  one  Yankee  can  walk  into 
three  Englishmen  ;  and  somehow  or  another,  1  kinder  guess 
they  will  —  try  to  do  it,  at  any  rate,  ^'^or  my  part,  I  am 
pretty  much  like  father,  and  he  used  to  say  he  never  was 
afeerd  of  anything  on  the  face  of  the  airth  but  a  woman. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  the  story  of  father's  courtship  ?"— ^ 
*'  No,"  I  replied,  "  never ;  your  stock  of  anecdotes  is  inex- 
haustible, and  your  memory  so  good  you  never  fall  into  the 
common  error  of  great  talkers,  of  telling  your  stories  a  sec- 
ond time.  I  should  like  to  hear  it." — "  Well,"  said  he,  "  it 
.•\in't  an  easy  story  to  tell,  for  fathev  always  told  it  with 
variations,  accordin'  to  what  he  had  on  board  at  the  time, 
for  it  was  only  on  the  annivarsary  of  his  weddin'  he  used 
to  tell  it ;  and  as  there  was  considerable  brag  about  father, 
he  used  to  introduce  new  flourishes  every  time  —  what  our 
singin'  master  in  sacred  melody,  Doldrum  Dykins,  used  to 
call  grace-notes.  '  Sam,'  he  'd  say,  '  I  have  been  married  this 
day  —  let  me  see,  how  many  years  is  it?  do  you  recollect, 
Vo'\y  dear?' — '  Why,' says  mother,  *I  can't  say  rightly, 
for  I  never  kept  a  tally  ;  but  it's  a  considerable  some,  tho', 
I  estimate.'  (She  never  would  answer  that  question,  poor 
dear  old  soul !  for  women  don't  like  to  count  arter  that  if 
they  can  help  it,  that's  a  fact.)  'Well,' says  father,  'it's 
either  eight  or  nine-and-twenty  years  ago,  I  forget  which.' 
— '  It's  no  such  thing,'  says  mother,  quite  snappishly,  '  Sam 
is  only  twenty-one  last  Thanksgiving-day,  and  he  was  born 
jist  nine  months  and  one  day  after  we  was  married,  so  there 
now.'  (Father  gives  me  a  wink,  as  much  as  to  say,  'that's 
woman  now,  Sam,  all  over,  ain't  it?')  '  Well,  your  mother 
was  eighteen  when  wo  was  married,  and  twenty-one  years, 


FACING    A    WOMAN. 


248 


and  iiiiio  months,  mid  one  dny,  nddod  to  that,  makes  her 

near  liand  to  fort .'     '  Never  mind  wliat  it  makes,'  says 

mother,  'but  go  on  with  your  story,  whatever  it  is,  and 
sutiitotalize  it.  Yoii  are  like  Dohlrum  Dykins,  he  sings 
the  Avords  of  each  varse  over  tliree  times.' — '  Well,'  said 
he,  'this  /  u'ill  say,  a  youii^er-lookin',  hloominer  woman 
of  her  age  there  ain't  this  day  in  all  Slickville,  no,  nor 
i'l  Corne'tictit  i  other.' — 'Why,  Mr.  Slick,'  says  mother, 
layin'  down  her  knittin'  and  fixin  her  cap,  *  how  you  do 
talk!' — 'Fact,  upon  my  soul,  Polly,'  said  he;  'but  Sam,* 
said  he,  '  if  you'd  a  ser'^  her  when  I  first  knowed  her  !  she 
was  a  most  super-superior  gal  and  worth  lookin'  at,  I  tell 
you.  She  was  a  whole  team  and  a  horse  to  spare  —  a  rael 
screamer,  that's  a  fact.  She  was  a  most  a  beautiful  piece 
of  woman-flesh,  fine  corn-fed,  and  showed  her  keep.  Light 
on  the  foot  as  a  fox,  cheeks  as  fair  as  a  peach  and  hard  as 
an  apple,  lips  like  cherries  —  lick!  you  wouldn't  see  such 
a  gall  if  you  was  to  sarch  all  the  factories  to  Lowell,  for 
she  looked  as  if  she  could  e'en  a-most  jump  over  her  own 
shadow,  she  was  so  tarnal  wiry.  Heavini  !  how  springy 
she  was  to  a  wrastle,  when  we  was  first  married  !  She 
always  throwed  me  three  or  four  times,  at  first,  hand-run- 
nin' ;  in  course  I  was  stronger,  and  it  ginerally  eended  in 
my  throwin'  her  at  last ;  but  then  that  was  nateral,  seein' 
she  was  the  weakest.  Oh  !  she  was  a  rael  doll  —  she  was 
the  dandy,  that's  a  fact' — 'Well,  I  want  to  know,' said 
mother,  '  did  you  ever  V  a-tryin'  to  look  cross,  but  as  pleased 
as  anything,  and  her  eyes  fairly  twinklin'  again  to  hear  the 
old  man's  soft-sawder :  '  Why  the  man  is  tipsy  to  talk  that 
way  afore  the  boy ;  do  for  gracious  sake  behave,  or  I  '11  go 
right  out.'     1'tien,  turnin'  to  me  and  fillin'  my  glass,  '  Do 


..!!ii 


ii;'.';iii 


m 


i;!''    ill- 


Hni 


':i'!i'    III 
ir,ll,'  lij 

r  •■  i! 


jii    !"|i 


244 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


s;  \ 


H  ' 


m 


drink,  dear,'  says  she,  'you  seem  kinder  dull.' — 'Well,  she 
was  the  only  created  crittur,'  says  he,  *  I  ever  seed  I  was 
darnted  afore.' — '  You  got  bravely  over  it,  anyhow,'  says 
mother.  '  Courtin','  says  he,  '  Sam,  is  about  the  hardest 
work  I  kno-w  on ;  fightin'  is  nothin'  to  it.  Facin'  ball, 
grape,  or  bullet,  or  baganut,  as  we  did  at  Bunker's  hill,  is 
easy  when  a  man  is  used  to  it ;  but  face-in'  a  woman  is — 
it 's  the  devil,  that 's  a  fact.  When  I  first  seed  her,  she  filled 
my  eye  chock  full ;   her  pints  were  all  good ;  short  back, 

good  rate  to  the  shoulder,  neat  pastern,  full  about  the ' 

•  There  you  go  agin,'  says  mother  ;  '  I  don't  thank  you  one 
bit  for  talkin'  of  me  as  if  I  was  a  filly,  and  I  won't  stay  to 
hear  it,  so  there  now  :  I  believe,  in  my  soul,  you  are  onfaki- 
lized.' — '  Well,  1  reconnoitred  and  reconnoitred  for  ever  bo 
long,  a-considerin'  how  I  was  to  lay  siege  to  her ;  stormin'  a 
battery  or  escaladin'  a  redoubt  is  nothin'  to  it,  I  have  done 
it  fifty  times.' — 'Fifty  times!'  says  mother,  lookin'  arch  to 
hire,  for  she  was  kinder  sorter  wrathy  at  bein'  talked  of  as 
a  horse.  '  Well,'  says  father,  '  forty  times  at  any  rate.' — 
'Forty  times!'  says  mother ;  'that's  a  powerful  number.' 
— 'Well,  d — n  it!  twenty  times,  then,  and  more  too.' — 
'  Twenty  times !'  said  she ;  '  did  our  folks  storm  twenty 
batteries  all  together  V — '  Why,  tarnation  !'  says  father,  •  I 
suppose  at  last  you  '11  say  I  warn't  at  Bunker's  hill  at  all, 
or  Mud  creek,  or  the  battle  atween  the  outpostt:  at  Peach 

orchard '      '  Or   cliargin'   Elder    Solomon    Longstaffs 

sheep,'  says  mother.  '  Well,  by  the  tarnal !'  says  father, 
who  hopped  with  rage  like  a  ravin'  distracted  parched  pea, 
'if  that  beaut  p'tikilar,  I  am  a  pumkin,  and  the  pigs  may 
do  their  prettiest  with  me.  Did  n't  I  tell  you,  Sam,  nothin' 
could  come  up  t  j  a  woman  V — '  Except  a  filly,'  says  mother ; 


']5 

M-V 


PACING   A    WOMAN. 


245 


M 


'now  don't  compare  me  to  a  boss,  and  talk  of  pints  that 
ain't  to  be  thought  of,  much  less  talked  of,  and  I  won't  jibe 
you  about  your  campaigns  ;  for  one  thing  is  sartain,  no  man 
ever  doubted  your  courage,  and  Gineral  Gates  told  me  so 
himself.  "  Polly,"  says  the  gineral,  "if  you  take  Sargeant 
Slick,  you  take  a  hero."  ' — '  Well,'  says  father,  quite  molli- 
fied by  that  are  title  of  hero.  Gates  was  a  good  judge,  and 
a  good  feller  too.  Fill  your  glass,  Sam,  for  I  always  cal- 
culate to  be  merry  on  this  night ;  and  Polly  dear,  you  must 
take  a  drop  too  :  if  we  do  get  warm  sometimes,  makin'  up 
seems  all  the  sweeter  for  it.' 

" '  Well,  as  I  was  a-sayin',  I  studied  every  sort  of  way 
how  I  should  begin  :  so  at  last,  thinks  I,  a  faint  heart  never 
won  a  fair  lady ;  so  one  sabbath-day  I  brushed  up  my  regi- 
mentals, and  hung  old  Bunker  by  my  side,  and  ironed  out 
my  hat  anew,  and  washed  the  feather  in  milk  till  it  looked 
as  well  as  one  jist  boughten,  and  oflF  I  goes  to  meetin'. 
Well,  I  won't  say  I  heerd  much  of  the  sarmon,  because  I 
didn't;  but  I  know  it  was  a  little  the  longest  I  ever  sot 
out ;  and  when  we  was  dismissed,  I  was  e'en  a'most  Borry 
it  was  over,  I  was  so  discomboborated,  and  I  breathed  as 
short  as  if  I  had  a-been  chasin'  of  the  British  all  day ;  but 
at  last  I  moved  out  with  the  crowd,  and  movin'  sot  me  all 
to  rights  agin.  So  I  marches  up  to  Polly  Styles  —  that  was 
your  mother  that  is  —  "  Mornin',"  says  J,  "Miss  Styles," 
and  I  gave  her  a  salute.'  — '  Why,  Slick,'  says  she,  '  how 
you  talk!  you  never  did  no  such  a  thing ;  jist  as  if  I  would 
let  you  salute  me  before  all  the  folks  that  way.' — '  I  did, 
tho*,  upon  my  soul,'  says  father. — '  I'll  take  my  Bible-oath,' 
says  mother,  *  there  is  not  a  tvord  of  truth  in  it.' — *  Why, 
Polly,*  says  father,  *  how  can  you  say  so  ]     I  brought  both 


i       1; 


I  111 


i* 


246 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


V 

h 


s 


;  :i 


'r    '' 


;  I 


ill 


feet  to  the  fii>t  position  t^'is  way'  —  and  he  got  upon  the 
floor  and  indicated  — '  then  I  came  to  attention  this  way'  — 
and  he  stood  up  as  stiff  as  a  poker,  he  held  his  arms 
down  by  h's  side  quite  straight,  and  his  head  as  erect  as  a 
flagstaff — 'then  I  brought  up  my  right  arm  with  a  grace- 
ful sweep,  and  without  bendin'  the  body  or  movin'  tlie 
head  the  least  mite  or  morsel  in  the  world,  I  brought  the 
back  of  my  hand  against  the  front  of  my  regimental  hat,' 
and  he  indicated  again.  'Oh!'  says  mother,  'that  salute, 
indeed  !  I  detract,  I  recoHeet  you  did.' — '  That  salute,'  says 
father  —  •  why,  what  salute  did  you  mean  V — '  Why,'  says 
mother,  colorin*  up,  *  I  thought  you  meant  that — ^that — 
that  —  never  mind  what  I  meant.' — 'Oh  ho!'  says  father, 
•  I  take,  I  lake;  talk  of  a  salute,  and  a  woman  can't  think 
of  anything  else  but  a  kiss.  It's  the  first  thing  they  think 
of  in  the  mornin',  and  the  last  at  night.' — '  Go  on  with  your 
story,  and  cut  it  short,  if  you  please,'  says  mother,  'for  it's 
gettin'  rather  tedious.' — '  "  Mornin',"  says  I,  "  Miss  Styles, 
how  do  you  do  ?"  "  Eeasonable  well,  I  give  you  thanks," 
says  she,  "  how  be  you  ?"  "  Considerable,"  says  I.  When 
that  was  done,  the  froth  was  gone,  and  the  beer  flat ;  I 
couldn't  think  of  another  word  to  say  for  mindin'  of  her, 
and  how  beautiful  she  was,  and  I  walked  on  as  silent  as  if 
I  was  at  the  head  of  my  guard.  At  last  says  your  mother, 
"  Is  that  splendid  regimental  you  have  on,  Mr.  Slick,  the 
same  you  wore  at  Bunker's  hill?"  Oh,  dear?  what  a  load 
that  word  took  off  my  heart !  it  gave  me  somethin'  to  say, 
tho'  none  of  the  clearest.  "  Yes,  Miss,"  says  I,  "  it  is ; 
and  it  was  a  glorious  day  for  this  great  republic  —  it  was 
the  cradle  of  our  liberty."  "Well  done,  Slick!"  says  her 
father,  as  he  rode  by  jist  at  that  moment,  "  you  are  gittin' 


1 1 . 
•  I 

Hi 


PACING   A   WOMAN. 


247 


on  bravely,  talkin'  of  cradles  already."  Well,  that  knocked 
me  all  up  of  a  lieap,  and  sot  your  mother  a-colorin'  as  red 
as  anything.  I  hardly  know  what  I  said  arter  that,  and 
used  one  word  for  another,  like  a  fool.  •'  We  had  twenty 
thousand  as  fine,  gallant  young  galls  there,"  says  I,  "  that 
day,  as  ever  I  laid  eyes  on."  *'  Twenty  thousand !"  said 
Polly,  "  do  tell !  Why,  what  on  airth  was  they  a-doin'  of 
there  ?"  **  In  arms,"  snys  I,  "  a-strugglin'  for  their  lib- 
erty." *'  And  did  they  get  away  ?"  said  she,  a-laughin'. 
"  Poor  things  !"  said  I,  "many  of  them,  whose  bosoms  beat 
high  with  ardor,  were  levelled  there  that  day,  I  guess." — 
"Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  "how  you  talk!"  "Yes," 
says  I,  "  nine  of  them  from  Charlestown  accompanied  me 
there,  and  we  spent  the  night  afore  the  ingagement  in  the 
trenches  without  a  blanket  to  cover  us."  "  They  had  little 
to  do  to  be  there  at  such  hours  with  you,"  said  Polly. 
"  Little  to  do  ?"  said  I ;  "  you  would  n't  have  said  so,  Miss, 
if  you  had  a-been  there.  You'd  a-found  that  lyin'  ex- 
posed  "     "  I  don't  want  to  hear  no  more  about  it,"  said 

she ;  "  let 's  join  mother,  and  I  '11  ax  her  about  it."  "  Do,'* 
said  I,  "and  she'll  tell  you  they  fell  on  a  bed  of  glory." 
"  Mother,"  says  Polly,  "  Sargeant  Slick  says  there  were 
twenty  thousand  galls  at  Bunker's  hill ;  did  you  ever  hear 
tell  of  it  afore  V  "  Men,"  says  I.  "  No,  galls,"  said  she. 
*•  No,  men,"  says  I.  "  Twenty  thousand  galls,"  they  all 
repeated  ;  and  then  they  laughed  ready  to  kill  themselves, 
and  said,  "  What  onder  the  sun  could  put  such  a  crotchet 
as  that  are  into  your  head  1"     "  Miss,"  says  I,  "  if  I  did  say 

80 "     "Oh  !  you  did,"  said  she,  "  and  you  know  it."    "  If 

I  did  say  so  it  was  a  mistake  ;  but  that  put  it  into  my  head 
that  put  everything  else  out."     "  And  what  was  that  1"  said 


i    II 


248 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


K, 


ir: 


W 


t  ■,:ii 
I    J  ■  : 

f  I 


Hlie.     "  Why,  as  pretty  a  gall,"  said  I,  "  as "     ••  Oh  ! 

then,"  said  she,  *'  thry  was  all  galls  in  the  trenches,  after  all. 
I  won't  hear  no  more  about  them  at  no  rate.  Good-by." 
Well,  there  I  stood  lookin'  like  a  fool,  and  feelin'  a  proper 
sight  bigger  fool  than  I  looked.' — 'Dear  heart !'  says  mother, 
gittin'  up  and  goin'  behind  him,  and  pattin'  him  on  the  cheek, 
'  did  she  make  a  fool  of  him,  then  V  and  she  put  her  arm  round 
his  neck  and  kissed  him,  and  then  filling  up  his  tumbler  said, 
*  Go  on,  dear.' — *  Well,  it  was  some  time,'  said  father,  'afore 
I  recovered  that  misstep ;  and  whenever  I  looked  at  her 
avterward  she  laughed,  and  that  confused  me  more;  so  that 
I  began  to  think,  at  last,  it  would  he  jist  about  as  well  for 
me  to  give  it  up  as  a  bad  bargain  ;  when  one  sabbath-day 
I  observfed  all  thii  Styleses  a-comin'  to  meetin'  except 
Polly,  who  stayed  to  home  ;  so  I  waits  till  they  all  goes  in, 
and  then  cuts  off,  hot-foot,  for  the  river,  and  knocks  at  the 
dcor  of  the  house,  tho'  I  actilly  believe  my  heart  beat  the 
loudest  of  th*^  two.  Well,  when  I  goes  in,  there  sot  Polly 
Styles  that  was,  your  mother  that  is,  by  the  fire,  a-readin' 
of  a  book.  *'  Goin'  to  meetin'  ?"  says  I.  "  I  guess  not,** 
said  she,  "  are  you  ?"  "  I  guess  not,"  said  I.  Then  there 
was  a  pause.  We  both  looked  into  the  fire.  I  don't  know 
what  she  was  a-thinkin'  on ;  but  I  know  what  I  was,  and 
that  wa.<5,  what  to  say  next.  "  Polly,"  said  I.  ••  Did  you 
speak  1"  said  she.  "  I — I — I — '*  it  stuck  in  my  throat. 
"Oh!"  said  she,  "I  thought  you  spoke."  Then  we  sot 
and  looked  into  the  coals  again.  At  last  she  said,  "What 
couple  was  that  was  called  last  Lord's-day ?"  "I  don't 
mind,"  said  I,  "  but  I  know  who  I  wish  it  was."  *'  Who  ?" 
said  she.  "Why,  me  and  somebody  else."  "Then  why 
do  n*t  you  and  somebody  else  get  called,  then  ?**  said  she. 


PACING   A   WOMAN. 


249 


;'l 


♦'  I — I — I — "  it  stuck  again  in  my  throat.  If  I  had  n't 
a-been  so  bothercrl  advisin*  of  myself,  I  could  have  got  it 
out,  J  do  suppose;  but  jist  as  I  was  a-goin'  to  speak,  I 
couldn't  think  of  any  words.  "But  now's  your  time  — 
it's  a  grand  chance."  "  Arter  a  wliile,"  says  she  ;  "father 
will  bo  to  home  soon,  I  am  a-thinkin' ;  meetin'  must  bo 
near  out  now."  ♦'  Likes  as  not,"  says  I.  Presently,  up 
jumps  Polly,  and  says,  "  Entertainin'  this,  ain't  it  ?  s'posin' 
you  read  me  a  sarmon,  it  will  give  us  somethin'  to  talk 
about."  And  afore  I  could  say  a  word  agin  it,  she  put  a 
book  into  my  hand,  and  said,  "Begin,"  and  threw  herself 
down  on  the  setteo.  Well,  I  hadn't  read  a  page  hardly 
afore  she  was  asleep,  and  then  I  laid  down  i  he  book ;  and 
says  I  to  myself,  says  I,  "What  shall  I  do  next?"  and  I 
had  jist  got  a  speech  ready  for  her  when  she  woke  up,  and 
rubbin'  her  eyes,  said,  "  I  am  'most  afeerd  I  gave  you  a 
chance  of  a  forfeit  by  nappin'  arter  that  fashion ;  but,  aa 
luck  would  have  it,  you  was  too  busy  readin'.  I  '11  take 
care  not  to  do  so  agin.  Go  on,  if  you  please,  sir."  Well, 
I  began  to  read  a  second  time,  and  had  n't  gone  on  above  a 
few  minutes  afore  a  little  wee  snore  showed  me  she  was 
asleep  agin.  "Now,"  says  I  to  myself,  "arter  such  an 
invitation  as  she  gin  about  the  gloves,  I  am  darned  if  I 
don't  try  for  the  forfeit  while  she  is  asleep."' — 'I  did  n't 
give  no  such  invitation  at  all  about  the  gloves,'  says  mother; 
'don't  believe  one  word  of  it,  it's  jist  an  invention  of  his 
own.  Men  like  to  boast,  and  your  father  is  the  greatest 
bragger  livin'  out  of  the  twenty  thousand  galls  that  was  at 
Bunker's  hill.' — 'Polly,'  says  father,  'it's  nateral  to  deny 
it,  but  it's  true  for  all  that.  Well,  says  I  to  myself,  says  I, 
"  Suppose  it  was  the  devil  or  a  Britisher  that  was  there, 

11 


Mil! 

31 


II ':! 


il  ill! 


250 


SAM   SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


w 
¥i 


'f  'f 


HI 


■'% 


i; 


Sargeant  Slick,  what  would  you  do?  Why,"  says  I  to 
myself  for  answer,  "  I  would  jist  shut  my  eyes  and  rush  right 
at  it ;"  and  with  that  I  plucked  up  courage,  and  run  right  at 
the  settee  full  split.  Oh,  dear!  the  settee  warn't  strong 
enough.' — *  Lawful  heart !'  says  mother,  '  what  a  fib !  did  you 
ever  ?  well,  I  never  did  hear  the  beat  of  that ;  it 's  all  made 
out  of  whole  cloth,  I  declare.' — '  The  settee  warn't  strong 
enough,'  said  father.  '  It  broke  down  with  an  awful  smash, 
your  mother,  Polly  Styles  that  was,  kickin'  and  screamin' 
*ill  all  was  blue  agin.  Her  comb  broke,  and  out  came  her 
hair,  and  she  looked  as  wild  as  a  h.awk.  "  Gloves !"  says 
I.  "  You  shan't,"  says  she.  "  I  will,"  says  I.  "  •  In  arms 
a-strugglin'  for  their  liberty,' "  says  her  father,  who  jiet 
then  come  in  from  meetiu'.  Polly  squeeled  like  a  rat  in  a 
trap,  and  cut  and  run  out  of  the  room  full  chisel.' — '  Dear, 
dear,'  said  mother,  '  what  will  he  say  next  1  I  wonder.' — 
'  And  then  the  old  man  and  me  stood  facin'  one  another 
like  two  cats  in  a  garret. 

*' '  "An  accident,"  says  I.  "  So  I  perceive,"  says  he. 
•*  Nothin'  but  lookin'  for  a  pair  of  gloves,"  bays  I.  "  As 
you  and  tho  nine  galls  did  at  the  trenches  at  Bunker's 
hill,"  said  he,  "  for  tho  blankit."— "  Now,  Friend  Styles," 
said  I.  "  Now,  Friend  Slick,"  said  he.  "  It  warn't  my 
fault,"  says  I.  "  Certainly  not,"  says  he  ;  "  a  pretty  gall  at 
home,  family  out ;  used  to  twenty  thousand  galls  in  war, 
it 's  nateral  to  make  love  in  peace  ;  do  you  take  ?" — "  Well," 
says  I,  "  it  does  look  awkward,  I  confess." — "  Very,"  says  he. 
"  Well,  Slick,"  says  he,  "  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is, 
you  must  either  marry  or  fight."  Says  I,  "  Friend  Styles, 
as  for  fightin',  Bunker's  hill,  Mud  creek,  and  Peach  Or- 
chard, are  enough  for  any  one  man,  in  all  conscience ;  but 


^""Tm 


PACING   A    WOMAN. 


251 


I  Ml  jnnny  as  soon  as  you  pleawp,  anfl  the  sooner  the  better." 
— "  So  I  tihouhl  thnik,"  said  he.  "  No,  no,  Neighbor  Styles," 
said  I,  "  you  don't  do  me  justice,  you  don't,  indeed ;  I  never 
had  the  courar  j  to  put  the  question  yet."  ' — •  Well,  if  that 
do  n't  cap  all,'  says  mother  ;  '  that  beats  the  bugs  ;  it  does 
fairly  take  the  rag  off.' — '  "A  man,"  says  Mr.  Styles,  "  that 
has  nine  ladies  in  the  trenches  with  him  all  night,  in  arms 
a-strugglin*  for  liberty,  without  a  blankit  to  cover  them,  to 
talk  of  not  havin'  courage  to  put  the  question,  is  rather  too 
good.     Will  you  marry  ?" — '•  I  will,"  says  I,  '•  and  only  jist 

too  happy  to "     "  You  shall  be  called  then  this  blessed 

arternoon,"  said  he ;  "  so  stay  dine,  Son  Slick."  Well,  to 
make  a  long  story  short,  the  thing  turned  out  better  than 
I  expected,  and  we  were  spliced  in  little  better  than  half 
no  time.  That  was  the  first  and  laot  kiss  I  ever  had  afore 
we  was  married,  Polly  was  so  everlastin'  coy ;  but  arter- 
ward  she  nev — '  *  Not  one  word  more,'  says  mother,  '  to 
your  peril,  not  one  word  more,'  and  she  got  up  and  shook 
her  knittiu'  at  him  quite  spunky.  '  Most  o'  that  are  story 
was  an  invention  of  your  own,  jist  a  mere  brag,  and  I  won't 
hear  no  more.  I  don't  mind  a  joke  when  we  are  alone,  but 
I  won't  hear  nothin'  said  afore  that  are  boy  that  lessens  his 
respect  for  his  mother  the  leastest  grain,  so  there  now.' — 
•  Well,  well,'  says  father,  '  have  it  your  own  way,  Polly, 
dear  ;  I  have  had  my  say,  and  I  would  n't  ryie  you  for  the 
world,  fi)r  this  I  will  say,  a  most  an  excellent  wife,  depend- 
able friend,  and  whiskin'  housekeeper,  you  have  made  to 
me,  that 's  sartain.  No  man  do  n't  want  no  better,  that 's  a 
fact.  She  had  n't  no  car  for  music,  Sam,  but  she  had  a  cap- 
ital eye  for  dirt,  and  for  poor  folks  that's  much  better.  No 
one  never  seed  as  much  diit  in  wy  liouse  as  a  fly  couldn't 


II'  1 1 


I:,     . 


252 


SAM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


i'\ 


brush  off  with  his  wings.  Boston  galls  may  boast  of  its 
spinnetts,  and  their  ^yters  and  their  eyetalian  airs,  and 
their  ears  for  music  ;  but  give  me  the  gall,  I  say,  that  has 
an  eye  for  dirt,  for  she  is  the  gall  for  my  money.  But  to 
eventuate  my  story:  when  the  weddin'  was  over,  Mr. 
Styles,  that  was  your  grandfather  that  is,  come  up  to  me, 
and  tappin'  me  on  the  shoulder,  says  he,  "  Slick,"  says  he, 
♦'  everybody  knew  you  was  a  hero  in  the  field,  but  I  actilly 
did  not  think  you  was  such  a  devil  among  the  galls.  Nine 
of  them  in  the  trenches  at  one  lime,  in  arms,  a-strugglin' 
for  their  liberty,  and  so  on.  You  must  give  over  them 
pranks  now  du  are  married." — This  is  all  very  well  as  a 
joke,'  says  father;  'but,  Sam,  my  son,'  says  he,  'them  that 
have  seed  sarvice  —  and  I  flatter  myself  I  have  seed  as  much 
as  most  men,  at  Bunker's  hill.  Mud  creek,  and  Peach  Or- 
chard, et  sarterar,  as  the  Boston  merchants  say,  veterans 
I  jnean  —  will  tell  you,  that  to  face  an  inimy  is  nothin',  but 
it  is  better  to  face  the  devil  than  io face a  womany* 


CHAPTER   XXI. 


THE    ATTACHE. 


This  being  the  last  day  at  my  disposal  at  New  York,  I 
went  on  board  the  "  Great  Western"  and  secured  a  passage 
for  myself  and  Mr.  Slick ;  and,  as  there  were  still  several 
vacant  berths,  had  the  gratification  to  find  there  was  room 
for  my  worthy  friend  Mr.  Hop-ewell,  if  he  should  incline 
to  accompany   us,  and  arrive   in  tinu;  to  embark.     I  th(>n 


I,  Hi 


THE   ATTACHE. 


263 


sauntered  up  through  the  Broadway  to  a  coach-stand,  and 
drove  to  the  eeveral  residences  of  my  kind  and  agreeable 
friends  to  bid  them  adieu.  New  York  is  decidedly  the 
first  city  of  the  Western  world,  and  is  alike  distinguished 
for  the  beauty  of  its  situation  and  the  hospitality  of  its  in- 
habitants. I  left  it  not  without  gieat  regi'et,  and  shall  al- 
Avays  retain  the  most  pleasing  recollection  of  it.  In  this 
respect,  I  understand  I  am  by  no  means  singular,  as  no 
stranger,  bringing  proper  introductions,  is  ever  permitted 
to  feel  he  is  alone  in  a  foreign  land.  Sdon  after  I  returned 
to  the  hotel,  Mr.  Slick  entered,  with  a  face  filled  with  im- 
portance. "  Squire,"  said  he,  "  I  have  jist  received  a  letter 
that  will  astonish  you,  and  if  you  was  to  guess  from  July 
to  etarnity  you  wouldn't  hit  on  what  it's  about.  I  must 
orty  i  am  pleased,  and  that 's  a  fact ;  but  what  puzzles  me 
is,  who  sot  it  a-goin'.  Now,  tell  me  candid,  have  you  been 
writin  to  the  British  embassador  about  me  since  you  canje  V* 
— "  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  have  not  the  honor  oi  his  acquaint- 
ance. I  never  saw  him,  and  never  had  any  communication 
with  him  on  any  subject  whatever." — "  Weli,  it  passes 
then,"  said  he,  "that's  sartain  ;  I  haven't  axed  no  one 
nothcr,  and  yet  folks  don''t  often  get  things  crammed  down 
their  throats  that  way  without  say  in', '  By  your  leave,  stran- 
ger.' I  han't  got  no  interest ;  I  am  like  the  poor  crittur  at 
the  pool,  I  han't  got  no  one  to  put  me  in,  and  another  feller 
always  steps  in  afore  me.  If  Martin  Van  has  done  this  his- 
self  be  must  liave  had  some  motive,  for  he  han't  got  these 
things  to  throw  away ;  he  wants  all  the  offices  he  has  got 
as  sops  to  his  voters.  Patriotism  is  infarnal  hungry,  and 
as  savage  as  Old  Scratch  if  it  tan't  fed.  If  you  want  to 
tamo  it,  you  must  treat  it  as  Van  Amburg  does  bis  lions, 


II! 

I  i!i 


i   N 


M  l.i 


.  I: 


254 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


1i 


\{-i 


IL 


,  1 


n^ 


1 » ■' 

■I: 


keep  its  belly  full.  I  wonder  whether  he  is  arter  the  vote 
of  Slickviile,  or  whether  he  is  only  doin'  the  patron  to  have 
sunthiu'  to  brag  on.  I'd  like  to  know  this,  for  I  am  not  in 
the  habit  of  barkin'  up  the  wrong  tree,  if  I  can  find  the 
right  one.  Well,  well,  it  don't  matter  much,  arter  all, 
what  he  meant,  so  as  he  does  what 's  right  and  pretty. 
The  berth  is  jist  the  dandy,  that 's  a  fact.  It  will  jist  suit 
me  to  a  T.  I  have  had  my  own  misgivin's  about  goin' 
with  you,  squire,  I  tell,  for  the  British  are  so  infarnal  proud 
that  clockmakin'  sounds  everlastin'  nosey  to  them,  and  I 
don't  calculate  in  a  gineral  way  to  let  any  man  look 
scorncy  to  me,  much  less  talk  so ;  now  this  fixes  the  thing 
jist  about  right,  and  gives  it  the  finishin'  touch.  It  'a 
grand  !  I  *ve  got  an  appointment,  and,  I  must  say,  I  feel 
kinder  proud  of  it,  as  I  never  axed  for  it.  It 's  about  the 
most  honorable  thing  Martin  Van  ever  did  since  he  became 
public.  Tit  or  no  tit,  that 's  the  tatur !  and  I  '11  maintain 
it,  too.  I'll  jist  read  you  a  letter  from  Salter  Fisher,  an 
envoy,  or  sunthin'  or  another  of  that  kind,  in  the  secretary 
of  state's  office.     I  believe  he  is  the  gentleman  that  carries 

their  notes  and  messages  : — 

% 

"  PRIVATE. 

"  My  DEAR  Slick  : — 

"  Herewith  I  have  the  honor  to  enclose  you  your  com- 
mission as  an  attache  to  our  legation  to  the  court  of  Saint 
Jimses,  Buckin'hanij  with  an  official  letter  announcin'  the 
pre  ident's  nomination  and  senate's  vote  of  concurrence. 
Martin  ordered  these  to  be  put  into  the  mail,  but  I  have 
taken  the  chance  to  slip  this  into  the  paper-cover.  It  is 
the  policy  of  our  government  to  encourage  nntivc  authors 


il, 


THE   ATTACHE. 


255 


and  reward  merit ;  and  it  makes  me  feel  good  to  find  your 
productions  have  made  tlie  name  of  this  great  and  growin* 
rei)nblic  better  known  among  Europeans,  and  we  expect  a 
considerabls  some,  thnt  this  appointment  will  enable  you  to 
exalt  it  still  further,  and  that  the  name  of  Slick  will  bo 
associated  with  that  of  our  t^ages  and  heroes  in  after-ages. 
This  commission  will  place  you  on  afootin'  with  the  princes 
and  nobles  of  England,  give  you  a  free  ticket  of  admission 
to  the  palace,  and  enable  you  to  study  human  nctur'  under 
new  phases,  associations,  and  developments  ;  that  is,  if  thar 
is  any  natur'  left  in  such  critturs.  With  such  opportunities, 
the  president  expects  you  will  not  fail  to  sustain  the  honor 
of  the  nation  on  all  occasions,  demanding  and  enforcing 
your  true  place  in  society,  at  the  top  of  the  pot,  and  our 
exalted  rank  at  foreign  courts  as  the  greatest,  freest,  and 
most  onlightened  nation  now  existin*.  It  would  be  advisa- 
ble, it  a  favorable  opportunity  offers,  to  draw  the  attention 
of  the  queen  to  the  subject  of  her  authors  and  travellers  — 
carelessly  like,  as  if  it  weren't  done  a-purpose,  for  it  don't 
comport  with  dignity  to  appear  too  sensitive,  but  jist  merely 
to  regret  the  prac/Zcc  of  hirin'  authors  to  abuse  us,  in  order 
to  damp  the  admiration  of  Europeans  of  our  glorious  insti- 
tutions. 

"  We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  Captain  Hall 
received  five  thousand  pounds  for  this  purpose,  and  Mrs. 
Trollope  the  same  sum  ;  that  Miss  Martineau  is  promised  a 
royal  garter  (it 's  a  pity  she  warn't  hanged  with  it),  and 
Captain  Marry  at  to  be  made  a  knight  of  the  royal  baths. 
Tliis  conduct  is  on  worthy  a  great  people  like  the  English, 
and  onjiist  and  insultin' to  us ;  and  you  might  suggest  to 
her  royal  highness  that  tiiis  n\ean,  low-lived,  dirty  conduct 


i!'^ 


i  I  lii 


i! 


256 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


l-'-m 


i  1 


II 


lii  I 


i\ ' 


'1  ' 


will  defeat  itself,  and  tliat  notliin'  short  of  kickin'  out  her 
ministry  will  be  accepted  as  an  apology  by  the  American 
people.  You  might  say  to  her  ladyship,  that  the  city  arti- 
cles in  the  Times  newspaper  are  very  offensive  to  us,  and 
that,  tho',  individually,  we  despise  such  low  blackguard 
isms,  yet,  collectively,  the  honor  of  the  nation  demands  sat- 
isfaction. That  her  government  pays  for  their  insartion, 
there  can  be  no  doubt ;  and  the  paltry  trick  of  Mr.  Mel- 
burne  bribin'  opposition  papers  to  let  'em  in,  is  an  artifice 
that  may  cover  the  rascality  to  ignorant  British,  but  can't 
draw  the  wool  over  our  eyes.  If  you  have  no  opportunity 
to  say  this  to  her,  tell  Albert  Gotha,  her  bridegroom,  to  tell 
her  plainly,  if  she  don't  look  sharp,  we  '11  retaliate  and  hunt 
red  foxes  for  hct  in  Canada,  as  we  did  two  winters  ago. 

"  Caution  is  necessary  in  conversation,  in  speakin*  of  our 
army,  navy,  and  resources  of  war,  for  the  ministers  will 
pump  you  if  they  can.  Boastin'  without  crackin'  is  the 
true  course.  For  instance,  if  war  is  talked  of,  regret  the 
smallness  of  our  navy ;  for,  if  they  had  to  contend  with 
France  and  England  at  the  same  time,  the  issue  would  be 
extremely  doubtful.  That  is  a  clear  intimation  we  could 
lick  either,  and  ain't  afraid  of  both,  and  yet  don't  say  so. 
So,  in  speakin'  of  the  army,  deprecate  a  war,  and  say, 
*  marchin*  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men  into  Canada 
would  interfere  with  intarnal  improvements  by  raisin'  the 
price  of  labor.'  It  is  this  species  of  delicate  brag  that  best 
becomes  a  high  functionary. 

•*  It  is  not  to  be  doubted  you  will  return  as  you  go,  a 
republican  at  heart,  and  that  future  honors  await  you. 
Your  name  is  now  well  and  favorably  known,  and,  what  is 
better,  is  popular,  as  you  may  infer  when  I  tell  jou  that 


I '  I 


THE   ATTACHE. 


267 


the  very  pen  with  which  this  is  wrote  is  a  '  Sam  Slick  pen.' 
The  highest  gift  in  the  hands  of  man,  the  presidential  chair, 
shonld  now  and  henceforth  be  the  object  of  your  ambition. 
We  look  forward  with  much  gratification  to  your  delinea- 
tion of  English  character,  their  exclusiveness,  their  self-suf- 
ficiency, their  stronghold  of  slavery  —  the  factories  —  their 
overfed  clergy,  overpaid  officials,  and  antiquated  institu- 
tions—  their  defenceless  condition,  half-manned  navy,  and 
radical  army — their  proud  and  dissolute  aristocracy  — 
their  turbulent  and  factious  commons,  and  brutally-igno- 
rant peasantry.  I  estimate,  when  they  hear  of  your  ap- 
pointment, they  will  feel  considerable  streaked,  for  they 
must  know  you  won't  spare  them. 

"  While  you  are  visitin'  among  the  gentry  and  nobility, 
you  might  keep  a  journal  on  the  sly,  and  send  it  out  by  the 
steamers  to  some  leadin'  papers,  which  would  be  killin'  two 
birds  with  one  stone,  livin'  free  of  cost,  and  makin'  money 
out  of  them  at  the  same  time.  Where  you  can,  give  the 
real  names  in  full ;  where  it  ain't  safe,  for  fear  of  a  scuffle, 
say, '  Duke  A ,'  *  Lord  P  ,'  '  Lady  C ,'  and  occa- 
sionally '  The  q ,  told  me.'     It  sounds  well,  this,  and 

shows  your  standin'  is  high  a«d  is  peakannt.  Anecdotes 
of  high  life  sell  well  if  they  are  racy.  Then  collect  them 
together  into  a  book  onder  some  takin',  onpretending  title, 
as  •  Mems  of  a  Mum,'  or  *  Scrawlin's  afore  Bedtime,*  or 
some  such  name.  The  proceeds  will  enable  you  to  cut  a 
better  dash  to  court ;  only  don't  tell  'em  you  are  a-doin'  of 
it  to  England.     No  man  entertains  a  spy  if  he  can  help  it. 

•  A  word  to  the  wise will  always  suffice .*     This 

will  pave  the  way  well  for  your  progress  to  the  presiden- 
tial chair.     While  on  this  subject,  it  might  not  be  amiss  to 

11* 


I  I    !: 


"fe 
■X 


258 


SAM  SLICK'S  SAYINGS   AND  DOINGS. 


T! 


f  I 


!  i 

■  i  ' 


bint  a  change  of  party  might  occasion  a  change  of  office- 
holflors ;  and  that,  the'  too  strong  to  require  any  aid  for  our- 
selves, we  hope  for  your  family  ticket  in  Slickville  and  its 
vicinity,  to  enable  us  to  keep  you  in  your  present  honorable 
position.  Without  this  berth,  you  would  find  the  first  cir- 
cles as  stiff  as  an  ongreased  mast ;  this  appointment  will  ile 
that  beautiful,  and  luake  you  slide  as  easy  rb  on  well- 
slushed  ways.  Avail  it.  Sustain  the  honor  of  t^e  nation, 
and  paint  the  name  of  Sam  Slick  indelibly  on  the  dial-plate 
of  fame,  that  the  finger  of  Time  may  point  it  out  to  admirin' 
posterity,  to  all  etarnity. 

"  Yours  to  command, 

«'  Salter  Fisher. 

i 

"P.  S.  —  I  will  give  you  a  wrinkle  on  your  ho.ii  that's 
worth  bavin'.  Should  our  great  gun  be  absent  and  you  left 
in  London,  recollect  we  do  as  the  British  do,  give  no  instruc- 
tions we  can  help  ;  write  what  must  be  wrote  so  it  will  read 
any  way,  and  leave  subordinates  to  incur  all  responsibility 
of  actin'  and  readin'.  Meet  'em  in  their  own  way  by 
referrin'  all  home,  and  puttin'  the  saddle  on  the  right  horse 
in  spite  of  him.  Let  the^shafter  do  his  own  work.  Do 
you  take  ?  "  S.  F." 

As  soon  as  the  clockmaker  had  read  this  epistle,  he 
observed,  in  a  half-soliloquizing,  h-ilf-conversational  tone, 
"An  attache.  Well,  it's  a  statiju  of  great  dignity  too, 
ain't  it  ?  It  makes  me  feel  kinder  narvous  and  whimble- 
cropped,  for  I  have  got  to  sustain  a  new  character,  and  act 
a  new  part  in  the  play  of  life.  To  dine  at  the  palace  with 
kings,  queens,  and  princes;  what  a  pretty  how-d'ye-do 
that  is,  ain't  it  1     Won't  it  be  tall  feedin'  at  queen's  table  ? 


THE   ATTACHE. 


269 


that  'r  all ;  and  I  am  a  rael  whale  at  ducks  and  gveen  peas. 
Lord,  I  am  afeerd  I  fihall  foel  plaguy  awkward  too,  with  a 
coiut-dresfi  on.  I  once  seed  a  colony  chap  rigged  out  in  a 
suit  he  hired  of  a  Jew,  for  lerec-day,  and  I  am  teetotally 
extinctified  if  he  didn't  look  for  all  the  world  like  the 
baboon  that  rides  the  pony  to  the  circus.  He  was  small 
potatoes  and  few  in  a  hill,  that  feller,  I  tell  you.  He  looked 
as  mean  as  a  crittur  with  one  eye  knocked  out  and  t'other 
a-squint.  He  seemed  scared  at  himself,  as  the  bull  did 
when  he  got  opposite  the  lookin'-glass.  Heavens  and  airth  ! 
if  the  dogs  had  only  seed  him,  they'd  a-gi'n  him  a  chase 
for  it,  I  know ;  the  way  they  'd  a-foxed  him  and  a-larned  him 
fleas  ain't  lobsters,  would  have  been  a  caution  to  monkeys 
to  hold  up  their  tails  afore  they  shut  to  the  door  arter 
them.  A  crittur  with  a  good  nose  would  put  up  some  tamal 
queer  birds  in  the  long  stubble  at  St.  Jimses,  that's  a  fact. 
Yes,  I  'm  afeerd  I  shall  feel  monstrous  onconvenient,  and 
as  if  I  wa'n't  jist  made  to  measure.  Oarryin'  a  sword  so 
as  to  keep  it  from  stickin'  atween  your  legs  and  throwin' 
you  doAvn,  ain't  no  easy  matter  nother ;  but  practice  makes 
parfect,  I  do  suppose.  Well,  I  vow,  our  noble  institutions 
do  open  avenues  to  ambition,  and  merit  to  the  humblest 
citizens  too,  don't  they]  Now,  tell  me  candid,  squire, 
do  n't  it  make  your  mouth  water  ?  How  would  you  like 
Mr.  Melburne  to  take  you  by  the  seat  of  your  trowsers  with 
one  hand,  and  the  scruff  of  your  neck  with  the  other,  and 
give  you  a  chuck  up-stairs  that  way,  for  nothin'  ?  for  he  is 
jist  the  boy  that  can  do  it ;  but  catch  him  at  it,  that's  all : 
no  indeed,  not  he,  for  breeches  ain't  petticoats,  nor  never 
was  except  in  Turkey  and  Egypt ;  and  when  kissin'  goes 
by  favor,  who  would  look  at  a  dispisable  colonist  ?     Well, 


260 


BAM   BUCK'S   SAYINGS    AND   DOINGS. 


p; 


ri 


l!^f. 


m 


1: 


if 

ml 


i 


Martin  Van  has  done  that  to  me,  and  he  is  a  gentleman, 
every  inch  of  him,  and  eats  his  bread  buttered  on  both 
sides. 

"Only  to  think,  now,  Sam  Slick,  the  clockmaker,  should 
be  a  member  of  our  legation  to  the  greatest  nation  in  the 
world  next  to  us.  Lord,  how  it  would  make  poor  dear  old 
mother  stare,  if  she  could  only  lift  herself  up  ont  of  the 
grave,  and  open  her  eyes.  It  would  make  her  scratch  her 
head  and  snicker,  /  know ;  for  only  thinkin'  of  it  kinder 
gives  me  the  peadoddles  myself.  What  on  airth  do  they 
talk  about,  I  wonder,  when  they  get  together  to  the  palace, 
them  great  folks  and  bigbugs.  Clocks,  I  do  suppose,  must 
'be  sunk,  and  bosses  and  tradin'  in  the  small  way  too ;  it 
wouldn't  convene  with  dignity,  that  sort  o'  gab.  One  good 
thing,  I've  seed  a  considerable  of  the  world  in  my  time,  and 
don't  feel  overly  daunted  by  no  man.  Politics  I  do  know 
in  a  gineral  way,  as  well  as  most  men  ;  colonies  and  colony 
chaps,  too,  I  know  better  than  any  crittur  I  'd  u  eet,  and  no 
mistake.  Pictur'  likeness  is  a  thing  I  won't  turn  my  back 
on  to  no  one,  nor  bronzin',  nor  gildin'  nother,  for  that 's  part 
of  the  clock  blsness.  Agriculture  I  was  brought  up  to,  and 
gunnin'  and  trappin'  I  was  used  to  since  I  was  a  boy.  Po- 
etry is  the  worst ;  if  the  galls  to  the  palace  begin  in  that 
line,  I  'm  throwed  out  as  sure  as  a  gun,  for  I  shall  hang  fire, 
or  only  burn  primin',  for  I  ha' n't  even  got  two  fingers  of  a 
charge  in  me,  and  that's  damaged  powder  too:  I  never 
could  bear  it.  I  never  see  a  poet  yet  that  warn't  as  poor  as 
Job's  turkey,  or  a  church-mouse ;  or  a  she-poet  that  her 
shoes  didn't  go  down  to  heel,  and  her  stockin's  look  as  if 
they  wanted  darnin'  ;  for  it's  all  cry  and  little  wool  with 
poets,  as  the  devil  said  when  he  sheared  his  liogs.     History 


m 


THK   ATTACHE. 


261 


I  do  know  a  little  of,  for  I  larned  Woodbri(l{;;'-i'8  Epitome 
to  school,  and  tlie  Bible,  and  the  history  of  our  Revolu- 
tion I  know  by  heart,  from  Paradise  to  Lexin'ton,  and 
from  Bunker's  hill  to  Independence.  But  I  do  suppose  I 
must  rub  up  a  little  on  the  passage.  Music  I  don't  fear 
much,  for  I  rather  pride  myself  on  my  ear  and  my  voice ; 
and  psalmody  I  larned  to  singin'-schools ;  so  operas  and 
theatres  will  soon  set  me  right  on  that.  But  dancin'  is 
what  1  can  take  the  shine  off  most  folks  in.  I  was  reck- 
oned the  supplest  boy  in  all  Slickville.  Many 's  the  time 
I  have  danced  '  Possum  up  a  gum-tree'  at  a  quiltin'  frolic 
or  huskin'  party,  with  a  tumblerfull  of  cider  on  my  head, 
and  never  spilt  a  drop  —  I  have,  upon  my  soul."  He  then 
got  up  and  executed  several  evolutions  upon  the  floor  which 
would  have  puzzled  an  opera-dancer  to  imitate  ;  and  then 
said,  with  an  air  of  great  self-satisfaction,  "  Show  me  any 
lord  to  England  that  could  do  that,  and  I  '11  give  him  leave 
to  brag,  that's  all.  Oh,  dear!  I'll  whirl  them  maids  of 
honor  to  the  palace  round  and  round  so  fast  in  a  waltz,  no 
livin'  soul  can  see  me  a-kissin'  of  them.  I  've  done  it  to 
Phebe  Hopewell  afore  her  father's  face,  and  he  never 
knowed  it,  tho'  he  was  lookin'  on  the  whole  blessed  time  — 
I  hope  I  may  be  shot  if  I  ha' n't.  She  actilly  did  love 
them  waltzes,  the  wickedest  I  ever  did  see.  Lick !  there 
is  some  fun  in  that  are,  ain't  they  1  It  ain't  often  they  get 
a  smack  from  rael  right-down,  good,  genuwine  Yankee  lips, 
sweet  fed  on  corn  and  molasses,  I  know.  If  they  only 
like  them  half  as  well  as  dear  little  Phebe  did,  I  'm  a  made 
man,  that's  all.  The  only  thing  in  dancin',  like  boatin*,  is 
to  keepin'  a  straight  keel.  That's  the  rael  secret.  P'raps 
the  best  way,  arter  all,  is,  I  believe,  at  first  to  play  mum. 


I 


'' 


!i 


i  <' 


IM 


ill! 


262 


8AM   SLICK'S   SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS. 


^1-   ■ 


pay  little,  nnd  hear  everything,  and  then  do  jist  like  other 
folks.  Yes,  that's  the  plan  ;  for  liquor  that's  well  corked 
is  always  the  be«t  up.  *  An  attache  T  well,  that  sounds 
dreadful  pretty,  too,  don't  it?  Then,  as  for  dress,  I  guess 
I'll  wait  till  I  reach  London,  that  my  coat  may  be  the  rael 
go,  and  up  to  the  notch  ;  but  the  button  I  '11  get  now,  for 
'twould  look  shockin'  liandHum,  and  more  like  the  rael 
thing.  Yes,  I'll  jist  step  into  the  chamber  and  slick  up  my 
hair  with  a  taller  candle,  and  put  my  betterment  coat  into 
a  silk  pocket-handkerchief,  and  take  it  down  to  Hellgo  and 
Funk  the  tailors  (I  knowed  'em  to  Boston),  and  get  the 
legation-button  put  on,  for  it  will  command  respect  on  board 
the  Great  Western.  I  larned  that  from  brother  Josiah  ;  he 
always  travels  with  several  trunks ;  he  says  it  brings  the 
best  rooms  and  best  attendance  at  inns  always,  for  they 
think  you  must  be  somebody  to  have  so  much  luggage. 
He  told  me  as  a  fact,  they  paid  carriage  very  well.  *  An 
atta'he  ! r 

*'  Well,  it's  funny,  too,  ain't  it  ?  It  sounds  rael  jam,  that. 
I  must  say  I  feel  kinder  obleeged  to  j\rr.  Van  Burin  for  this 
good  turn  he  has  done  me.  I  always  thought  he  was  very 
much  of  the  gentleman  in  his  manners,  and  the  likeliest 
man  in  the  states,  and  now  I  swear  by  him.  Yes,  locofoco 
as  he  is,  I  go  the  whole  figur'  for  Martin  Van,  that 's  a  fact. 
Hit  or  miss,  rough  or  tumble,  claw  or  mudscraper,  I  'm  his 
man ;  I'll  go  in  for  him  up  to  the  handle,  and  so  will  all  us 
Slickville  folks,  for  in  elections  we  pull,  like  inions,  all  on 
one  string,  and  stick  to  our  man  like  burrs  to  sheep's-wool. 
And  now,  squire,"  said  he,  jumping  up  and  taking  me  by 
the  hand  —  "  and  now,  my  friend,  shake  flippers  along  with 
me,  and  congratulate  me.     When  I  return  from  the  tailor's, 


t  i 


1 


THE   ATTACHE. 


263 


I  shall  be  a  new  man.  You  will  then  meet  the  honorable 
Samuel  Slick,  an  *  attache^  to  our  legation  to  the  court  of 
Saint  Jimses,  Victoria's  Gotha.  And  him  you  will  have 
as  a  feller-pnysenger.  You  had  sense  enough  not  to  be 
ashamed  of  me  when  I  was  a-hoein'  my  way  as  a  tradin'- 
man,  and  I  won't  go  for  to  cut  you  now,  tho'  you  are 
nothin'  but  a  down-east  provincial.  All  I  ask  of  you  is, 
keep  dark  about  the  clocks ;  we  '11  sink  them,  if  you  please ; 
for,  by  gum  !  you  've  seen  the  last  of  Sam  SHck  the  clock- 
maker.  And  now,  squire,  I  am  your  humble  servant  to 
command. 

"The  Attachb." 


THE    EPJD. 


li   A 


1( 


A   BOOK   OF    UNIVERSAL    KNOWLED^^^E. 


lUS^r  PUBLISHED,  THE  MOST  USEFUL  AND 
EXTRAORDINARY     VOLUME 

Ever  yet  issued  from  the  Pres.i,  as  it  comprises  all  the  ei-'seiico  ('(uitiii!.!  ^l   in 
a  Dozen  of  any  other  Hooks  of  Information  that   have 
hitherto  bceu  printed. 

THE    TITLE    OF    THIS    WOXDEKFUI,    BOOK.    IS   AS    F01-1,0\V,<  ' 

INQUIRE    WITHIN 

FOR  ANY  THING  YOU  WISH  TO  KNOW;    Oil 

OVER  0,700  FACTS  FOR  THE  PEOPLE. 

A  Large  Volume  of  A2Q  ■pages— Cloth,  gilt — Price%\.  Sent  free  of  Postage. 

This  Book,  as  its  title  imports,  will  give  you  correct  informatioa  on 
every  possible  subject  that  you  ever  heard  or  thought  of !  It  tells  you 
liow  to  cook  a  dinner — to  cure  a  sick  friend,  or  cut  an  acquaintance— to 
get  up  a  dinner  party,  or  dine  abroad — to  play  at  cards,  at  chess,  or  any 
other  popular  game, — whether  you  wish  to  establish  yourself  in  life  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  etiquette, — to  get  up  a  sumptuous  entree  for  the  (finncr 
tattle,  or  arrange  a  plain  dinner— to  fold  fancy  napkins — to  start  husmiss — 
to  make  money— to  dress  with  taste — to  conduct  a  courtship — to  tie  a/,w 
kind  of  a  knot — to  get  married — to  give  an  evening  party  to  your  I'l^mfs 
— to  behave  well  in  company — to  keep  house  properly — to  dance — to  make 
ornamental  vases,  by  the  new  art  of  Poichomauie,  or  Wax  work,  and  other 
fancy  employments  for  the  ladies  :  to  establish  acquaintances  accoiding 
to  the  rules  of  etiquette — to  enjoy  an  hour  at  curious  puzzles  and  arith- 
metical questions— io  do  up  a  neat  parcel — to  relieve  the  invalid — to  ac- 
quaint yourself  with  the  technical  terms  in  literature,  law,  and  medicine — 
in  short,  to  Tio  every  useful  thing  that  can  be  thrught  of  or  imogincd, 
whether  at  home  or  abroad,  or  among  your  friends,  or  in  your  busines>>\  or 
on  your  farm,,  or  in  your  garden,  or  at  &  public  meeting,  or  at  a  prirotc 
assembly.  It  contains  tables  of  all  weights  and  measures  ;  Interest  'I'a/iirs 
from  $1  to  $10,000  atsix  and  seven  percent,  besides  innumerable  ta'olts  on 
Interesting  and  Curious  Subjects.  It  gives  complete  directions  how  to 
wash,  starch,  andiron — how  to  keep  the  eves,  hair,  teeth  and  compiciion  rn 
perfect  order — how  to  punctuate,  spell  and  write  correctly — how  to  (.07/1- 
po*e  a// A:iwi*  0/ ^e</er*,  from  the  billet-deaux  to  the  business  letter — how 
io  clean  furniture,  take  c&re  of  pet  animals — how  to  measure  all  kinds  (f 
mechanic's  work — how  to  detect  fraudulent  scales — and  all  about  the  proper- 
ties and  uses  of  different  medicines.  Indeed  this  is  really  and  truly  one  of 
the  iLost  wonderful  and  valuable  books  ever  printed.  Besides  all  this  in- 
formation— and  we  have  not  room  to  give  an  idea  of  a  hundredth  pai  t  of  it— 
it  contains  so  many  Valuable  and  Useful  receipts  that  an  enumeration  of 
them  requires  SEVENTY-TWO  COLUMNS  OF  FINE  TYPE  FOK  TiiE 
INDEX.  If  you  wish  to  consult  law  or  physic,  buy  this  book!  If  you 
want  to  learn  mechanically  how  to  do  n  little  of  everything  that  is  useful, 
huy  it !  If  you  have  any  literary  vanity,  and  wish  to  become  a  blue-siuck- 
ing — or  if  you  desire  to  make  a  sensation  in  almost  any  way,  this  bonk 
will  tell  you  exactly  how  to  do  it  !  It  is  no  collcrtion  of  ancient  savings 
and  receipts,  hutthe  whole  ain  fresh  and  new.  and  suited  to  the  present 
times.  As  a  book  to  keep  in  the  family  for  reference,  it  is  unequalod,  com- 
prising as  it  does  all  kinds  of  Books  of  Information  in  a  single  volume. 

Send  cash  orders  to  DICK  &  FITZGERALD. 

No.  18  Ann  Street,  New  York. 


THE   FOUNTAIN    OF   ALL    KNOWLEDGE. 


B"    < 


I  If  ; 


)f  i 


i  ; 


THE  REASON  WHY: 


A   CAIIKKUL  COIXKCTION   OV 


Siomt  Jljousaubs  of  ^ieasoits  for  S^ljings  to^itlj,  tljouglj  (f^cueraUg 
Jiuuum,  mt  ^mjierfmig  wuOfrstootr. 

A  BOOK  OK  CUNDKNSKl)  SCIKNTIFIi;  KNO\Vl,;;i)iiK  KOU  TIIK  MILMUX. 


BT  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "INtiUIRK  WITHIN." 

This  is  a  goodly  sized  volume  of  35G  pages,  comprLsiug  a  sort  of  Encyclo- 
pedia of  Sc-ientilic  Information  of  all  kind.s.  It  is  arranged  with  an  Alpha- 
betical Index,  in  referrmg  to  which  you  can  solve  almost  any  problem  in 
Natural  Philosophy  or  Learned  Science  that  may  come  up.  It  is  a  book  that 
will  give  you  the  cream  of  the  information  that  a  long  course  of  practical  ex- 
periments and  profound  study  has  imparted  to  the  saoauLi  and  philosophers 
of  this  progressive  age.  It  contains  a  collection  and  solution  of 
Tlilrteen  Hundred  «!(4  Tlilrty-TM'o  Facts  In  Sc-leiicti  <!^PUilosopIiy, 
some  of  which,  on  there  first  discovery,  puzzled  the  most  learned  and  apt  scholars. 

It  is  useless  to  go  into  details  of  this  e::celleiit  work.  iSiiffice  it  to  say, 
that  it  treats  on  every  imaginable  subject  iiertaining  to  Causes  and  Ellects, 
and  must  ne((--arily  be  invaluable  to  all  persons  who  desire  KNOWLEDGE, 
and  whose  nn-.uis  and  position  in  life  have  prevented  them  from  acquiring  it 
by  a  regular  ami  tedious  course  of  Study.  • 

We  hesit.ite  not  to  say,  that  any  one  who  closely  reads  this  volume  will  ob- 
tain as  much  real  learning  in  a  few  days  as  years  of  study  and  patient  research 
would  attbrd  them  in  a  regular  course.  In  a  word  it  makes  you  a  learned  and 
refined  ))erson  with  sjjending  but  very  little  money,  time  or  trouble. 

No  pains  have  been  spared  by  the  Author  to  make  this  a  popular  book,  in 
fact  a  book  for  the  million ,  and  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  its  vast  usefulness 
when  we  inform  the  reader  that  THE  REASON  WHY  has  an 

Index  of  Cor.tcnts  rcqulrln^^  Forty  Columns  of  Fine  Type. 

No  person  who  desires  to  figure  in  refined  and  intelligent  circles  should  delay  pur- 
chnsinK  a,  copy  of  this  capital  work,  for  it  will  furnish  thousands  of  ideas  and  im- 
portant topics  of  conversation,  so  that  the  most  if^norant  person  by  readi'vt;  it  will 
ue  posted  up  on  all  scientific  subjects. 

What  Haydn  8  Dictionarj' of  Dates  is  in  regard  to  historical  events,  this  wonderful 
book  is  in  respect  to  scientific  facts.  The  plan  of  the  book  and  its  execution,  leave 
nothing  to  bo  desired.  We  jan  cordially  recommend  this  work  to  all  those  imiuircrs, 
young  and  old,  of  both  sexes,  who  are  never  satisfied  until  they  know  the 
"  reason  why." 

The  man  who  goes  out  into  the  world,  or  attempts  to  attend  properly  to  his 
domestic  duties,  will  find  himself,  however  abundantly  supplied  with  books  or 
buliii>n,  perpetually  embarrassed  for  the  want  of  small  facts  and  small  change. 
This  volume  supplies  the 

Ready  Coin  of  Conversation, 

In  the  shape  of  SCIENCE  FOR  THE  MILLION,  and  makes  even  the  neglected  in 
early  studies  feel  quite  at  lioine  upon  every  topic  likely  to  be  discussed  within  the 
ordinary  range  of  the  social  circle.    It  imparts 

Practlenl  Information  on  tlic  Subject  of  Practical  Facts. 

It  may  be  denominated,  Uricnce  made  easy,  or  a  world  of  ua^ul  every-day  learn- 
ing condensed  into  a  volume  for  your  pocket ! 

Is  a  handsome  I'Jino.  volume  of  .",56  pages,  printed  on  fine  j)apcr,  bound  in  cloth,  gill, 
and  embellished  with  a  largo  number  ot  Wood  Cuts,  illustrating  the  various  subjects 
treatcdof.  PBICE3    ONE    DOLLAB. 

iflr*  Copies  mailed  to  any  address  in  the  United  States  or  Canada,  free  of  postage. 
Send  your  Cash  orders  to     DICK  &>  FITZG.KRALD,  Publishers, 

No.  18  Ann  Street,  New  York. 


i 


I 

t 


LIVE  AN®  LEARN; 

A  GUIDE  FOU  ALL  WHO  \S'l:-,ri  TO 

SPEAK  AND  WRITE   COREECTLY: 

particularly  intended  aa  a  T]ook  of  Keference  for  the  8o|i!tir>!!  'jf  Di.Ticr.Itiii 
coiiuiected  with  (Jriimraiir,  C'ompositiou,  Punctuatiou,  Ac,  witli  Exjilauations 
of  Latin  and  French  words  and  Phrases  of  fiequent  ncciineiicu  in  Xewnpa- 
pers,  Reviews,  Periodicais,  and  Books  in  general  containing  Examples  of 

O  N  E    T  II  0  U  S  A  \  1)     M  I  S  T  A  K  E  S 
of  Daily  Occurrence,  in  bpeaking.  Writing  and   Pronunciation.     Together 
with  Detailed  lustructi  iis  for  Writing  for  the  Press,  and  forms  o!  Articles 
in  the  various  department*  of  Newspaper  Litonit'Me.     '210  jiagee,  hound  in 
Cloth,  l2mo,  price  50  cents,  and  sent  tt)  any  address  J~tc  oj  postage. 

'•  Live  ami  Learn"  ie  a  most  usttnl  hook,  designed  as  a  Guide  to  Gram 
mar,  Compositi<jn,  and  Punctuation.  So  few  people  speak  or  write  really 
good  grammar,  and  fewer  siill  |)unctuate  decently,  that  a  hook  that  infoima 
them  how  to  do  so — and  not  only  that  indicates  their  faults,  but  shows  them 
how  they  are  to  be  corrected — cannot  fail  to  he  popular  ;  tlicrc  is  not  a 
person  indeed,  v^homiiilu  nut  learn  suinething  from  it. 

No  work  heretifne  written  on  this  subject  contains  one  half  the  really 
useful  information  tiiat  the  present  does.  It  sliould  he  in  the  hand  of  every 
niau,  woman  and  child  iu  llie  country,  and  is  alike  invaluable  to  the  Scholar, 
the  Merchant,  the  Farmer,  and  the  Artizau. 

There  are  hundreds  of  persons  engaged  iu  professional  and  commercial 
pursuits,  who  are  sensible  ol  their  delicieucies  on  many  points  i-onnected 
with  the  grimniar  of  their  own  tongue,  and  who.  by  self-tuition,  are  au.xious 
to  correct  such  deficiencies,  and  to  acquire  the  means  of  speaking  and 
writing,if  not  with  elegance  at  least  with  a  due  regard  to  grammatical  ac- 
curacy, to  whom  this  little  work  is  "  indispensihle."  Asa  book  of  refer- 
ence, •'  Live  and  Learn''  will  settle  many  disputes.  It  ought  to  be  on  every 
table,  and  he  particularly  lecommended  to  the  young,  before  habit  niakea 
cooimon  blunders  uncommcu  hard  to  cure. 

"  Live  and  Learn"  is  an  e.xcellent  book.  To  show  our  appreciation  of  its 
merits  we  have  had  it  cased  in  leather,  and  have  made  a  pocket  companion 
of  it  We  look  upon  it  us  renWy  indispensiiilc.  We  advise  our  readers  to 
imitate  our  exnruplc- -procure  the  book  and  s.  1  it  not  for  any  price  — Edu- 
cational Gazette. 

Such  a  book  as  this  haiJ  Iihir  been  wanted  by  those  who  entertain  the 
wish  alluded  to  in  the  title.  '  is  suitable  for  all  claases.  We  have  atten- 
tively conned  its  pages,  and  cai  ^eeommend  it  as  one  of  the  best  works  of 
reference  for  the  young  student,  '/•  cvm  the  ripe  scholar,  and  as  deserving 
to  be  generally  eonsuJcd.  The  i  rk  is  altogether  useful  and  indifpensible. 
— New  York  Tribune. 

This  hook,  particularly  intended  as  a  work  of  reference  for  the  sxlution 
of  difficulties  connected  with  grammar,  composition  and  punctuation,  etc., 
etc.,  will  be  found  useful  by  those  who  have  not  received  a  sound  elementa- 
ry education  and  who  neverthsless  move  in  position. — Daily  Times. 

This  capital  work  not  only  gives  exanip'es  of  over  lODO  niistikis,  but  it 
gives  rules  for  their  correction  so  clear,  so  terse,  and  at  once  so  sinijde  that 
the  most  or(]in;iry  mind  cannot  f-iil  to  cuinptehend  tin  ir  in(a!ii'  g.  Tliis  is 
one  ol  the  chief  beauties  ol  "  Live  and  Learn,"  for  what  is  the  u;-e  of  poiiit- 
ing  out  a  graniniatica'  ernw  without  giving  a  key  to  its  cnncction  '  Thtie 
has  been  several  catchpenny  works  <in  this  subject  lately  issiu  d.  1  hey  tell 
the  reader  that  mistakes  exist,  but  give  no  rule  for  their  avoidance.  If  you 
want  a  really  go  id  work,  buy  '•  Live  and  Learn  "' 

Send  cash  orders  to  DICK  .t  FITZGERALD, 

No.  18  Ann  St  N.  Y. 


^. 


; 


1  I 
1 
I 
i 


n 


EVERY  MAN  A  MAG-IOIAN. 


THE  MAGICIAN'S  OWN  BOOK; 

OR, 

CIjc  m\fok  irt  of  Conjurtng, 

Being  a  Complete  Hand-Book  of  Parlor  Magic,  containing  over  One  Thousand 
Optical,  Chemical,  Mechanical,  Magnetical,  and  Magical  Kxi)criments, 
Amusing  Transmutations,  Astoiusbiiig  Sleigbis  and  Subtleties,  Cele- 
brated Card  Deceptio"' .,  Ingenious  Tricks  wiih  Numbers,  Curious 
and  Entertaining  Puzzles — Together  with  all  the  most  Noted 
Tricks  of  Modern  Performers.  The  whole  Illustrated  with 

OA^EIi    SOO    ^VOOD    CUTS, 

And  iuteiided  as  a  source  of  amusement  for 

ONE  THOUSAND  AND  ONE  EVENINGS. 

12mo.,  cloth,  4Q0  pages ;  gilt  side  and  back  stamp.    Price,  One  Dollar,  sent 

free  of  postage. 


Here  is  a  book  for  the  long  winter  evenings,  and  one  that  will  make  all 
meiry  and  happy.  It  contains  over  a  THOUSAND  TRICKS,  of  every  descrip- 
tion, and  they  are  all  explained  so  clear  and  explicitly  that  any  person  can 
comprehend  and  perform  them  with  ease.  It  also  contains  ntuucruus  CURIOUS 
PUZZLES,  with  patterns  showing  how  they  are  done,  any  one  of  which  will 
afford  amusement  enough  for  a  whole  evening.  There  is,  aiso,  the  best  collec- 
tion of  wonderful  CARD  DECEPTIONS  ever  yet  published,  any  one  of  which 
is  worth  more  than  double  the  j)rice  of  the  book.  This  work  also  contains  a 
splendid  collection  of  CURIOUS  TRICKS  WITH  NUMBERS,  and  embraces 
several  hundred  tricks  never  before  in  print.  It  is  no  catchpenny  afliiir,  but  a 
standard  work,  containing  every  variety  of  Experiment  in  Coujuruig,  Cards, 
Legerdemain,  Transmutations,  the  Magic  of  Chemistry,  the  Magic  of  Me- 
chanics, the  Magic  of  Pneumatics,  the  Magic  of  Numbers,  the  Magic  of  Art, 
the  Magic  of  Strength,  the  Magic  of  Magnetism,  the  Magic  of  Secret  Writing, 
Miscellaneous  Curious  Tricks  and  Fancies,  &c.  'ihis  book  is  beautifully  bound 
in  tine  cloth,  with  gilt  side  and  back  stump,  and  is  iliustiate  i  with 

OVEtt   500  AVOOO  ENGRAVINGS, 

Besides  a  Tinted  Title  Page  and  Frontispiece.    Price,  ONE  DOLLAR,  and 
sent  to  any  address,  free  of  postage. 


Send  cosh  orders  to 


DICK  &  FITZGERALD, 

|No.  18  Ann  Street,  N  ;w  York. 


THE    FAMILY  AQUARIUM: 

Or,  Aqua  Vivarium. 

A  NEW  PLHA.SURE  FOR  THE  DOMESTIC  CIRCLE. 

Being  a  Familiar  and  Comjilete  Instructor  upon  the  subject  of  the  ConHtruction, 

Fitting  up,  Stocltiii;r,  and  Maintenance  of  tlie  Marine  and  Fresh 

Water  Aquarium,  or  River  and  Ocean  Gardens. 

By  IT.  D.  BUTLEiR,,  Esq. 

12mo.    Clutli,  with  gilt  side  stamp.    Price  60  Cents. 

Wfc  flatter  ourselves  that  Ave  know  Homething  of  the  character  and  principles 
of  the  Aquarium,  as  well  as  of  its  management,  and  we  feel  capable  of  doing 
justice  to  Mr.  Butler,  who,  in  this  production,  has  succeeded  in  arraying  ove  i 
the  dryest  portion  of  the  topic  in  gay  and  vivacious,  not  to  say  really  jileasirig 
colors.  His  style  is  easy,  aim|)Io,  interesting,  full  of  good  nature,  and  his  pages 
abound  with  salient  ])nints  of  humor,  as  well  as  (icciisionally,  flashes  of  truly 
eloquent  thought,  and  moral  commentary.  The  "  Family  Aquarium''  we  do 
not  hesitate  to  pronounce  the  mo'^t  perfect  work  of  the  kind  extant  in  our 
language.  It  is  not  mcrOiy  a  rehash  of  English  books  having  reference  to 
English  habits  and  Engllsli  localities.  It  is  ^imerican  in  all  respects,  and  re- 
markably original,  n;)t  on'y  teaching  the  "you  nir  idea  how  to  shoot,"  in  j)re- 
paring  an  A(iuarium  as  a  substitute  for  the  old  tNh  globe,  but  showing  vhy  tin', 
loater  need  never  lie  changed,  and  illustrating  the  prand  compensating  princi- 
ple by  means  of  which  nature  avoids  all  that  redundant  wa'^te  of  exertion.  The 
"  Family  Aquarium,"  also  instructs  the  reader  how  and  whereto  supply  himself 
with  the  most  appropriate  fish,  the  most  suitable  river  or  sea-jjlants,  insects, 
Crustacea,  anemones,  or  animal  flowers,  &c.,  and  the  best  mode  of  sustaining  them 
in  health  and  vigor.  With  this  little  adviser  on  her  parlor  tai)le,  any  lady  may 
Ht  up  an  Aquarium  to  please  her  own  taste.  She  cannot  go  astray  Everything 
is  set  down  and  intelligibly  explained,  and  though  she  may  live  a  thousand  miles 
from  the  sea-board,  she  will  be  able  to  present  as  perfect  an  Aquarium  as  a  resi- 
dent on  the  Atlantic  coast.  The  volume  has  our  heartiest  and  most  conscien- 
tious commendation.— iVe^o  York  Times. 


Tlie   ^rts   of  Beauty; 

Or,  SECllETS  OF  A  LADY'S  TOILET. 

With  Hints  to  Gkntlemkn  on  thk  Akt  of  Fascinating. 

By    MADAM     LOLA     M  0  N  T  E  Z  , 

COCNTESS  OF  LANDSFILD. 

Beaiatifully  bound   in.  cloth..    IPi^ice  50  Cents. 

This  wonderful  book  contains  an  account,  in  detail,  of  all  the  arts  employed 
by  the  ladies  of  all  the  chiet  cities  of  Europe  for  the  purpose  of  developing  and 
l)reserving  their  charms.  Indep?iulent  of  its  rare  and  u.seful  recipes,  the 
book  is  a  ctu'iosity  as  a  pi^ce  of  art  itself,  for  the  most  delicate  suljjects  are 
handled  with  a  skill  and  an  unexceptional  propriety  of  language  that  is  truly  sur- 
prising. The  hints  to  gentlemen  on  the  art  of  fascinating,  form  one  of  the  most 
amusing  and  biting  jjieces  of  irony  and  .sarcasm  that  was  ever  written.  The 
wit  of  this  portion  of  the  book  i.s  inimitable,  and  the  "  coarser  sex,"  as  Lola 
quaintly  calls  the  men,  ought  univf  r.sally  to  bow  to  her  with  thanks  and  admira- 
tion tor  the  work  whi(Ji  she  has  ])erformcd. 

Copies  of  either  of  the  above  books  .^eiit  to  any  address  in  the  United  States 
or  Canada.    Send  cash  oi'dors  to 

DICK  &FITZGERALD,  Publishers, 

No.  18  Ann  Street,  New  York. 


;■■)    i 


[i:i 


s  , 


A  Book  for  Housekeepers. 


-•-^^•- 


THE    AMERICAN  flOME  COOK-BOOK. 

Containiiijj  Hoveral  hundred 

EXCELLENT      RECIPES. 

Tl-.o  wholo  based  on  many  yeari''  experience  of  ;ui  American  Houuewife.     Uluhtrated 
with  engravings.     Price  25  cents. 

All  tlie  Heeii'Bs  in  tliis  book  iire  written  from  actual  experiments  in  Cooking. 
There  are  no  copying  from  theoroti<':tl  conkin^;  r<'ci|)B».  They  are  intended  tor 
American  families. and  may  bo  dependcii  upon  as  good  and  practicable.  The  author- 
ess is  a  lady  who  understands  how  cooking  ought  to  be  ilone,  and  has  here  given  her 
experience.  It  is  a  book  of  128  pages,  and  is  UHEAl'  at  26  cents.  Wu  expect  to  tell 
a  very  large  number  at  this  low  price. 


^>.->     'N-.'N.' 


Works  for  the  Ladies. 


THE  LADIES'  GUIDE    TO    BEAUTY. 
A  COMPANION  rOR  THE  TOILET. 

Paper 25  cts. 

Cloth. 37.i  " 

Oontiiiiiing  Practcal  Advice  on  Improving  the  Complexion,  the  Hair,  the  Hands, 
the  Korni.  thu  Teeth,  the  Kyes,  tlie  Feet,  the  Features,  so  as  to  insiire  the  liijjhest 
d''^reo  of  peifectiou  of  which  they  are  suscepti'lo.  And  also  upwards  of  One  Hui.- 
liied  Ueiipos  for  various  Cohniotics  Oils.  PomnUcs,  etc.,  etc.,  being  tliM  rtftult  of  a 
I'.iuibination  of  I'ractii  al  and  Scientific  i^kill.  Uy  Sir  James  Clark.  Private  Physi- 
ciiiii  to  Queen  Victoria      Revise  i  and  edited  by  an  American  Physician  and  Cbeinist. 

Pric(!  25  cents,  and  we  send  it  free  of  postage. 


LADIES'   GUIDE  TO    CROCHET 

BY  MRS.  ANN  S.  STEVENS. 

Copiously  illustrated  with  original  and  very  choice  Degignsin  Crochet,  etc  ,  print- 
ed in  colors,  B't|iarate  from  Ithe  letter-press,  on  tinted  paper.  Also  with  numerous 
wood-cuts  printed  with  the  letter-press,  explanatory  of  terms,  etc.  Oblong,  pp.  117, 
beautifully  bound  in  extra  cloth,  gilt.     Price  75  cents. 

This  is  by  far  the  best  work  on  the  .''ubject  of  Grocliet  yet  published.  There  are 
liloiity  of  other  books  containiiig  Crochet  pattern.s.  but  the  difllculty  is,  they  do  not 
hiivethe  neci'ssary  in.structioiis  how  to  Moik  tlicin.  ntet  ,ire.  then  fore,  useless.  This 
work,  however  su|iplie8  tl'.is  much  felt  and  glaring  deliciency,  and  has  the  terms  in 
I'rochit  80  clearly  oxplai'  ed  that  any  Cmchet  pattern,  liDwever  difHcult,  may  be 
worked  with  ease. 

Copies  of  the  above  mailed  to  any  address  in  the  United  States  frco  of  postage. 


5 


.1! 


SAM   SLICK'S   NEW  WORK. 


"  Buy  it,  and  if  you  dou't  KukH,  then  there  is  no  laugh  in  you."— Ohio  Statesman 


JUST  PUBLISHED, 


NATURE  AND  HUMAN  NATURE 

A  Sequel  to  "  Wise  Saws ;  or,  Sum  Slick  in  Search  of  a  Wife." 

Bj  the  Author  of  "  Sam  Slick  In  Search  of  a  ^Vlfe,'* "  Sam  Slick 
In  Kngland,"  "  Sam  Slick's  Sajrlngs  and  Dolnga,"  <!(ic. 

Neatly  bound  i.i  Muslim,  75cKNrs;   ir»  Papkh,  60  cents 


A  Surprise. 

Clippers  and  Steamers. 

Unlocking  a  Woman's  Heart. 

A  Critter  with  a  Thousand  Vir- 
tues and  but  One  Vice. 

A  New  Way  to  Learn  Gaelic. 

The  Wounds  of  the  Heart. 

Fiddling  and  Dancing,  and  Serv- 
ing the  Devil. 

Stitching  a  Button- Hole 

The  Plural  of  Moore 

A  Day  on  the  Lakes 

The  Betrothal. 


CONTENTS. 

Female  Colleges. 

Gipseying. 

The  World  before  the  Flood. 

Lost  at  Sea. 

Holding  up  the  Mirror 

The  Bundle  of  Sticks 

Town  and  Country 

The  Honeymoon. 

A  Dish  of  Clams. 

The  Devil's  Hole ;  or,  Fish  and 

Flesh. 
The  Cucumber  Lake 
The  Recall. 


A  Foggy  Night 

NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 

•'  The  writings  of  Judge  Haliburton  haye  long  been  regarded  as  the  prodnction 
of  the  flne.st  humorist  that  has  ever  attempted  the  delineation  of  Yankee  charac- 
ter, and  the  entertaining  work  before  us  shows  that  he  has  lost  none  of  his  original 
wit  and  humor.  It  will  be  difficult  to  find  a  volume  so  full  of  fun  and  good  sense 
as  this,  which  chronicles  the  last  experiences  of  .Sam  Slick.' — Comniercia'.  Jldverhser. 

'•  Since  Sam  Slick's  fir.st  work  he  has  written  nothing  so  fref  h.  racy,  and  genu" 
inely  humorous  as  this.  Every  line  of  it  tells,  some  way  or  other — instructively, 
satirieally.  jocosely  or  wittily."— LondoJi  Observer 

•■  We  sincerely  pity  the  man  who  cannot  find  in  it  the  materials  fof  the  loosen-  [ 
ing  of  several  of  his  coffin  nails.  It  is  full  of  oddity  and  fun.  and  must  sell  like  , 
new  tomatoes. " — Buffalo  Expi-ess.  ' 

Published  by  DICK  &  FITZGERALD.  18  Ann  St.,  S.  Y.    ! 

And  for  sale  by  all  the  principal  Uooksellers.  ' 

JK^Pei'sons  forwarding  the  price  by  mail  will  receive  (he  IVork  Fuee  ok  P  jstm-t."',!  ^    , 


SAM    SLICIPS    YANKEE    COURTSI'IP. 


RECENTLY  PUBLISHED. 


WISE    SAWS; 


OR, 


SAM  SLICK  IN  SEARCH  OP  A  WIFE. 


By  the  Author  of  "Sam  Slick  In  Gnglanit,"  "Nature  and  Hu- 
man Nature/'  "  Sam  Slick's  Sayings  and  DolnK8/>  tfcc. 

In  Oflf  Elegant  Volume,  neatly  bound  in  Muslin ; 

Price  75  Cts.—in  Paper  60  Cts, 


Extract  from  tJDe  33reface: 

*  *  *  ♦  '  Fun  has  no  limits.  Tt  is  like  the  human  race  and  face  ;  ther-?  is  a 
family  likeness  among  all  the  species,  but  they  all  differ.  New  combinations  pro- 
duce new  varieties.  A  man  who  has  an  eye  for  fun  sees  it  in  everything.  *  *  • 
T^ere  is  a  work  called  '  The  Horse,'  and  another  •  The  Cow,'  and '  The  Dog,'  and  so 
on  ;  why  should'nt  there  be  one  on  '  The  Galls  ?'  They  are  about  the  most  diffl- 
cult  to  choose  and  to  manage  of  any  created  critter,  and  yet  there  aint  any  de- 
pendable directions  about  pickin'  and  choosin'  of  them.  Is  it  any  wonder  then  so 
many  fellows  get  taken  in  when  they  go  for  to  swap  hearts  with  them  ?  Besides; 
any  one  can  find  a  gentleman  that  keeps  a  livery  stable  to  ge^him  a  horse  to  order, 
but  who  can  say, '  This  is  the  Gall  for  your  money!'  " 


Introtluctory  Letter, 
Chat  with  the  President, 
Ste;ilinB  a  Sjieech, 
Everytniiig  in  General,  and 

Nothing  in  Particular, 
The  black  Hawk  ;  or  Life 

ill  a  h'ore-and-Auer, 
Old  Blowhard, 
The  Widow's  Son, 
Tlie  Language  of  Mackerel, 
The   Best-natured  Man    in 

the  World, 


CONTENTS, 

The  Bait-Box. 

The  Water-Glass;  or  a  Day- 

Dream  of  Life, 
Old  Sarsaparilla  Pills. 
Our  ("oloiiies  and  Sailors^ 
The  House  that  Hope  Built 
The  House  -without  Hope, 
An  Old  Friend  with  a  New 

Face, 
Chat  in  a  Calm, 
The  Sable  Island  Ghost, 


The  Witch  of  Eskisoony, 
Jericho  beyond  Jordan, 
Three  Truths  for  One  Lie, 
Aunt  Thankful  &herRooiM 
A  Single  Idea, 
An  Excellent  Plan  of  Re- 
form, 
Goose  Van  Dam, 
A  Hot  Day, 
A  Pic-Nic  at  La  Haire, 
A  Narrow  Escape. . 


Published  by  DICK  &  FITZGERALD,  18  Ann  St.,  N.  Y. 

And  for  sale  by  all  the  princijml  Bookiellers. 


r.Y. 


Hu-      I      t 


1 


